Zbc  Works  of  £♦  fl\  1?oe 


VOLUME    SIX 


AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW   YORK 
P.    F.    COLLIER    &    SON 


Copyright,  1885, 
39  DODD,  MEAD,  &  COMPANY. 


PREFACE 


No  race  of  men,  scarcely  an  individual,  is  so  devoid 
of  intelligence  as  not  to  recognize  power.  Few  gifts  are 
more  courted.  Power  is  almost  as  varied  as  character, 
and  the  kind  of  power  most  desired  or  appreciated  is  a 
good  measure  of  character.  The  pre-eminence  furnished 
by  thew  and  muscle  is  most  generally  recognized;  but,  as 
men  reach  levels  above  the  animal,  other  qualities  take  the 
lead.  It  is  seen  that  the  immaterial  spirit  wins  the  greater 
triumphs — that  the  brainless  giant,  compared  with  the  dwarf 
of  trained  intelligence,  can  accomplish  little.  The  scale 
runs  on  into  the  moral  qualities,  until  at  last  humanity 
has  given  its  sanction  to  the  Divine  words,  "Whosoever 
will  be  chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant."  The 
few  who  have  successfully  grasped  the  lever  of  which 
Archimedes  dreamed  are  those  who  have  attained  the 
highest  power  to  serve  the  world. 

Among  the  myriad  phases  of  power,  perhaps  that  of  a 
gifted  and  beautiful  woman  is  the  most  subtile  and  hard 
to  define.  It  is  not  the  result  of  mere  beauty,  although 
that  may  be  an  important  element;  and  if  wit,  intelligence, 
learning,  accomplishments,  and  goodness  are  added,  all  com- 
bined cannot  wholly  explain  the  power  that  some  women 
possess.     Deeper,  perhaps  more  potent,  than  all  else,  is  an 

M119743 


4  PREFACE 

individuality  which  distinguishes  one  woman  from  all 
others,  and  imparts  her  own  peculiar  fascination.  Of 
course,  such  words  do  not  apply  to  those  who  are  con- 
tent to  be  commonplace  themselves,  and  who  are  satisfied 
with  the  ordinary  homage  of  ordinary  minds,  or  the  con- 
ventional attention  of  men  who  are  incited  to  nothing 
better. 

One  of  the  purposes  of  this  story  is  to  illustrate  the 
power  of  a  young  girl  not  so  beautiful  or  so  good  as  many 
of  her  sisters.  She  was  rather  commonplace  at  first,  but 
circumstances  led  her  to  the  endeavor  to  be  true  to  her 
own  nature  and  conscience  and  to  adopt  a  very  simple 
scheme  of  life.  She  achieved  no  marvellous  success,  noth- 
ing beyond  the  ability  of  multitudes  like  herself. 

I  have  also  sought  to  reproduce  with  some  color  of  life 
and  reality  a  critical  period  in  our  civil  war.  The  scenes 
and  events  of  the  story  culminate  practically  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1863.  The  novel  was  not  written  for  the  sake  of 
the  scenes  or  events.  They  are  employed  merely  to  illus- 
trate character  at  the  time  and  to  indicate  its  develop- 
ment. 

The  reader  in  the  South  must  be  bitter  and  prejudiced 
indeed  if  he  does  not  discover  that  I  have  sought  to  be  fair 
to  the  impulses  and  motives  of  its  people. 

In  touching  upon  the  Battle  of  Gettysburg  and  other 
historical  events,  I  will  briefly  say  that  I  have  carefully 
consulted  authentic  sources  of  information.  For  the 
graphic  suggestion  of  certain  details  I  am  indebted  to 
the  "History  of  the  124th  Kegt.  N.Y.S.V.,"  by  Col. 
Charles  H.  Weygant,  to  the  recollections  of  Capt. 
Thomas   Taft   and    other   veterans    now   living. 

Lieut. -Col.    fl.    C.    Hasbrouck.    commandant  of    Cadets 


PREFACE  5 

at  West  Point,  has  kindly  read  the  proof  of  chapters  re- 
lating to  the  battle  of  Gettysburg. 

My  story  is  also  related  to  the  New  York  Draft  Riots 
of  1863,  an  historical  record  not  dwelt  upon  before  in  fic- 
tion to  my  knowledge.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  impart 
an  adequate  impression  of  that  reign  of  terror.  I  have  not 
hoped  to  do  this,  or  to  give  anything  like  a  detailed  and 
complete  account  of  events.  The  scenes  and  incidents  de- 
scribed, however,  had  their  counterpart  in  fact.  Rev.  Dr. 
Howard  Crosby  of  New  York  saw  a  young  man  face  and 
disperse  a  mob  of  hundreds,  by  stepping  out  upon  the 
porch  of  his  home  and  shooting  the  leader.  This  event 
took  place  late  at  night. 

I  have  consulted  '*  Sketches  of  the  Draft  Riots  in  1868," 
by  Hon.  J.  T.  Headley,  the  files  of  the  Press  of  that  time, 
and  other  records. 

The  Hon.  Thomas  C.  Acton,  Superintendent  of  the 
Metropolitan  Police  during  the  riot,  accorded  me  a  hear- 
ing, and  very  kindly  followed  the  thread  of  my  story 
through  the  stormy  period  in  question.  £.   P.  R. 

C0RXWALL-Oy-HUDS0N-,  N.   Y.,  AUG.   T,  1885. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEK  I 
A  Rude  Awakening e    .    15 

CHAPTER   II 
A  New  Acquaintance 24 

CHAPTER  III 
A  New  Friend 33 

CHAPTER    IV 
Woman's  Chief  Right 45 

CHAPTER   V 
"Be  hopeful  that  I  may  hope" 54 

CHAPTER    VI 
A  Scheme  of  Life 64 

CHAPTER  VII 
Surprises 73 

CHAPTER   VIII 

Charmed  by  a  Critic 85 

CHAPTER    IX 
A  Girl's  Light  Hand 96 

CHAPTER    X 
TTillard   Merwyn 105 

CHAPTER   XI 

An  Oath  and  a  Glance 115 

(7) 


8  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XII 
UA  Vow" .    .     .  124 

CHAPTER   XIII 
A  Siege  begun 136 

CHAPTER    XIV 
Ominous 147 

CHAPTER   XV 
Scorn 154 

CHAPTER  XVI 

Awakened  at  last 164 

CHAPTER  XVII 
Coming  to  the  Point ...  173 

CHAPTER  XVIII 
A  Girl's  Standard 183 

CHAPTER  XIX 
Probation  Promised 192 

CHAPTER  XX 

"YOU   THINK   ME  A  COWARD" 201 

CHAPTER  XXI 
Fears  and  Perplexities 211 

CHAPTER  XXII 
A  Girl's  Thoughts  and  Impulses    .     .     .    .     .     .  222 

CHAPTER  XXIII 
"My  Friendship  is  mine  to  give" 226 

CHAPTER  XXIY 
A  Father's  Forethought 233 

CHAPTER  XXV 
A  Chained  Will .  245 


CONTENTS  9 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

Marian's  Interpretation  of  Merwyn  ...    c    .  253 

CHAPTER  XXTII 

"De  Head  Linkum  Man  was  Cap'n  Lane"  ...  261 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 

The  Signal  Light 267 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

Marian  contrasts  Lane  and  Merwyn 276 

CHAPTER  XXX 

9R4- 

The  Xorth  invaded ^°* 

CHAPTER  XXXI 
"I've  lost  my  Chance'' 294 

CHAPTER  XXXII 
Blauyelt 304: 

CHAPTER  XXXIII 
A  Glimpse  of  War -     ■  ...  312 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 
A  Glimpse  of  War,  continued     .     .     .     ....  323 

CHAPTER   XXXV 
The  Grand  Assault 33° 

CHAPTER  XXXVI 
Blauyelt's  Search  for  Strahan 341 

CHAPTER  XXXVII 
Strahan' s  Escape 8o° 

CHAPTER    XXXVIli 
A  Little  Rebel 360 

CHAPTER  XXXIX 
The  Cure  of  Captain  Lane     .     .     .     «     ....  870 


10  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XL 
Love's  Triumph 379 

CHAPTER  XLI 
Sunday's  Lull  and  Monday's  Storm 395 

CHAPTER  XLII 
That  Worst  of  Monsters,  a  Mob 406 

CHAPTER  XLIII 
The  "Coward" 411 

CHAPTER  XLIV 
A  Wife's  Embrace 421 

CHAPTER   XLV 
The  Decisive  Battle 427 

CHAPTER  XLYI 

"I   HAVE   SEEN   THAT   YOU    DETEST   ME" 439 

CHAPTER  XLYII 
A  Fair  Friend  and  Foul  Foes 453 

CHAPTER  XLVIII 
Desperate  Fighting 464 

CHAPTER  XLIX 
One  facing  Hundreds  . 471 

CHAPTER  L 

Zeb 482 

CHAPTER    LI 
A  Tragedy  . 488 

CHAPTER   LII 
"Mother  and  Son" 502 

CHAPTER    LIII 
"Missy  S'wanee" •    •  510 


AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


AN  ORIGINAL  BELLE 


CHAPTER  I     \ 

A  RUDE   AWAKENING 


MARIAN  YOSBURGH  had  been  content  with  her 
recognized  position  as  a  leading  belle.  An  even- 
ing spent  in  her  drawing-room  revealed  that;  but 
at  the  close  of  the  particular  evening  which  it  was  our 
privilege  to  select  there  occurred  a  trivial  incident.  She 
was  led  to  think,  and  thought  is  the  precursor  of  action 
and  change  in  all  natures  too  strong  and  positive  to  drift. 
On  that  night  she  was  an  ordinary  belle,  smiling,  radiant, 
and  happy  in  following  the  traditions  of  her  past. 

She  had  been  admired  as  a  child,  as  a  school-girl,  and 
given  a  place  among  the  stars  of  the  first  magnitude  since 
her  formal  debut.  Admiration  was  as  essential  as  sun- 
shine; or,  to  change  the  figure,  she  had  a  large  and  a  nat- 
ural and  healthful  appetite  for  it.  She  was  also  quite  as 
much  entitled  to  it  as  the  majority  of  her  class.  Thus  far 
she  had  accepted  life  as  she  found  it,  and  was  in  the  main 
conventional.  She  was  not  a  deliberate  coquette;  it  was 
not  her  recognized  purpose  to  give  a  heartache  to  as  many 
as  possible:  she  merely  enjoyed  in  thoughtless  exultation 
her  power  to  attract  young  men  to  her  side.  There  was 
keen  excitement  in  watching  them,  from  the  moment  of 
introduction,  as  they  passed  through  the  phases  of  formal 
acquaintanceship  into  relations  that  bordered  on  sentiment 
When  this  point  was  reached  experiences  sometimes  fol- 
lowed which  caused  not  a  little  compunction. 

(15) 


16  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

She  soon  learned  that  society  was  full  of  men  much  like 
herself  in  some  respects,  ready  to  meet  new  faces,  to  use 
their  old  compliments  and  flirtation  methods  over  and  over 
again.  They  could  look  unutterable  things  at  half  a 
dozen  different  girls  in  the  same  season,  while  their  hearts 
remained  as  invulnerable  as  old-fashioned  pin-cushions, 
heart-shaped,  that  adorn  country  "spare  rooms."  But 
now  and  tncn  a  man  endowed  with  a  deep,  strong  nature 
would  no  ally  leave  her  side  in  troubled  wonder  or  bitter 
cvnicism.  Her  fair,  young  face,  her  violet  eyes,  so  dark 
as  to  appear  almost  black  at  night,  had  given  no  token 
that  she  could  amuse  herself  with  feelings  that  touched  the 
sources  of  life  and  death  in  such  admirers. 

"They  should  have  known  better,  that  I  was  not  in 
earnest,"  she  would  say,  petulantly,  and  more  or  less 
remorsefully. 

But  these  sincere  men,  who  had  been  so  blind  as  to 
credit  her  with  gentle  truth  and  natural  intuition,  had 
some  ideal  of  womanhood  which  had  led  to  their  blunder. 
Conscious  of  revealing  so  much  themselves  by  look,  tone, 
and  touch  of  hand,  eager  to  supplement  one  significant 
glance  by  life-long  loyalty,  they  were  slow  in  understand- 
ing that  answering  significant  glances  meant  only,  "I  like 
you  very  well— better  than  others,  just  at  present;  but  then 
I  may  meet  some  one  to-morrow  who  is  a  great  deal  more 
fun  than  you  are. 

Fun!  With  them  it  was  a  question  of  manhood,  of  life, 
and  of  that  which  gives  the  highest  value  and  incentive  to 
life.  It  was  inevitable,  therefore,  that  Marian  Yosburgh 
should  become  a  mirage  to  more  than  one  man;  and  when 
at  last  the  delusion  vanished,  there  was  usually  a  flinty 
desert   to    be    crossed    before    the    right,    safe    path    was 

gained. 

From  year  to  year  Mr.  Vosburgh  had  rented  for  his 
summer  residence  a  pretty  cottage  on  the  banks  of  the 
Hudson.  The  region  abounded  in  natural  beauty  and 
stately  homes.     There  was  an  infusion  of  Knickerbocker 


A    RUDE   AWAKENING  17 

blood  in  the  pre-eminently  elect  ones  of  society,  and  from 
these  there  was  a  gradual  shading  off  in  several  directions, 
until  by  some  unwritten  law  the  social  line  was  drawn. 
Strangers  from  the  city  might  be  received  within  the  inner 
circle,  or  they  might  not,  as  some  of  the  leaders  practically 
decreed  by  their  own  action.  Mr.  Vosburgh  did  not  care 
in  the  least  for  the  circle  or  its  constituents.  He  was  a 
stern,  quiet  man ;  one  of  the  strong  executive  hands  of  the 
government  at  a  time  when  the  vital  questions  of  the  day 
had  come  to  the  arbitrament  of  the  sword.  His  calling  in- 
volved danger,  and  required  an  iron  will.  The  questions 
which  chiefly  occupied  his  mind  were  argued  by  the  mouths 
of  cannon. 

As  for  Marian,  she  too  cared  little  for  the  circle  and  its 
social  dignitaries.  She  had  no  concessions  to  make,  no 
court  to  pay.  She  was  not  a  dignitary,  but  a  sovereign, 
and  had  her  own  court.  Gentlemen  friends  from  the  city 
made  their  headquarters  at  a  neighboring  summer  hotel; 
young  men  from  the  vicinity  were  attracted  like  moths, 
and  the  worst  their  aristocratic  sisters  could  say  against  the 
girl  was  that  she  had  too  many  male  friends,  and  was  not 
t;of  their  set."  Indeed,  with  little  effort  she  could  have 
won  recognition  from  the  bluest  blood  of  the  vicinage;  but 
this  was  not  her  ambition.  She  cared  little  for  the  ladies 
of  her  neighborhood,  and  less  for  their  ancestors,  while  she 
saw  as  much  of  the  gentlemen  as  she  desired.  She  had  her 
intimates  among  her  own  sex,  however,  and  was  on  the 
best  terms  with  her  good-natured,  good-hearted,  but  rather 
superficial  mother,  who  was  a  discreet,  yet  indulgent  chap- 
eron, proud  of  her  daughter  and  of  the  attention  she  received, 
while  scarcely  able  to  comprehend  that  any  serious  trouble 
could  result  from  it  if  the  proprieties  of  life  were  complied 
with.  Marian  was  never  permitted  to  give  that  kind  of  en- 
couragement which  compromises  a  girl,  and  Mrs.  Vosburgh 
felt  that  there  her  duty  ceased.  All  that  could  be  conveyed 
by  the  eloquent  eye,  the  inflection  of  tones,  and  in  a  thou- 
sand other  ways,  was  unnoted,  and  beyond  her  province. 


18  AN    ORIGINAL   BELLE 

The  evening  of  our  choice  is  an  early  one  in  June.  The 
air  is  slightly  chilly  and  damp,  therefore  the  parlor  is  pref- 
erable to  the  vine-sheltered  piazza  screened  by  the  first  ten- 
der foliage.  We  can  thus  observe  Miss  Vosburgh's  deport- 
ment more  closely,  and  take  a  brief  note  of  her  callers. 

Mr.  Lane  is  the  first  to  arrive,  perhaps  for  the  reason 
that  he  is  a  downright  suitor,  who  has  left  the  city  and 
business,  in  order  to  further  the  interests  nearest  his  heart. 
He  is  a  keen- eyed,  strong-looking  fellow,  well  equipped  for 
success  by  knowledge  of  the  world  and  society ;  resolute, 
also,  in  attaining  his  desired  ends.  His  attentions  to  Mar- 
ian have  been  unmistakable  for  some  months,  and  he  be- 
lieves that  he  has  received  encouragement.  In  truth,  he 
has  been  the  recipient  of  the  delusive  regard  that  she  is  in 
the  habit  of  bestowing.  He  is  one  whom  she  could  scarcely 
fail  to  admire  and  like,  so  entertaining  is  in  he  conversa- 
tion, and  endowed  with  such  vitality  and  feeling  that  his 
words  are  not  airy  nothings. 

He  greets  her  with  a  strong  pressure  of  the  hand,  and 
his  first  glance  reveals  her  power. 

4 'Why,  this  is  an  agreeable  surprise,  Mr.  Lane,"  she 
exclaims. 

''Agreeable?  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that,"  he  says,  in 
his  customary  direct  speech.  "Yes,  I  ran  up  from  the  city 
this  afternoon.  On  my  way  to  lunch  I  became  aware  of  the 
beauty  of  the  day,  and  as  my  thoughts  persisted  in  going  up 
the  river  I  was  led  to  follow  them.  One's  life  does  not  con- 
sist wholly  of  business,  you  know ;  at  least  mine  does  not, 

"Yet  you  have  the  reputation  of  being  a  busy  man." 

"I  should  hope  so.  What  would  you  think  of  a  young 
fellow  not  busy  in  these  times?" 

"I  am  not  sure  I  should  think  at  all.  You  give  us  girls 
too  much  credit  for  thinking." 

"Oh,  no;    there's  no  occasion  for  the  plural.     I  don't 
'give  'us  girls'  anything.     I  am  much  too  busy  for  that. 
But  I  know  you  think,  Miss  Marian,  and  have  capacity  for 
thought." 


A   RUDE   AWAKENING  19 

"Possibly  you  are  right  about  the  capacity.  One  likes 
to  think  one  has  brains,  you  know,  whether  she  uses  them 
or  not.  I  don't  think  very  much,  however — that  is,  as  you 
use  the  word,  for  it  implies  the  putting  of  one's  mind  on 
something,  and  keeping  it  there.  I  like  to  let  thoughts 
come  and  go  as  the  clouds  do  in  our  June  skies.  I  don't 
mean  thunder- clouds  and  all  they  signify,  but  light  vapors 
that  have  scarcely  beginning  or  end,  and  no  very  definite 
being.  I  don't  seem  to  have  time  or  inclination  for  any- 
thing else,  except  when  I  meet  you  with  your  positive 
ways.  I  think  it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  come  from  New 
York  to  give  me  a  pleasant  evening." 

"I'm  not  so  very  disinterested.  New  York  has  become 
a  dull  place,  and  if  I  aid  you  to  pass  a  pleasant  evening  you 
insure  a  pleasanter  one  for  me.  What  have  you  been  doing 
this  long  June  day,  that  you  have  been  too  busy  for 
thought?" 

"Let  me  see.  What  have  I  been  doing?  What  an  un- 
comfortable question  to  ask  a  girl.  You  men  say  we  are 
nothing  but  butterflies,  you  know." 

"I  never  said  that  of  you." 

"  You  ask  a  question  which  makes  me  say  it  virtually  of 
myself.  That  is  a  way  you  keen  lawyers  have.  Very  well; 
I  shall  be  an  honest  witness,  even  against  myself.  That  I 
wasn't  up  with  the  lark  this  morning  goes  without  saying. 
The  larks  that  I  know  much  about  are  on  the  wing  after 
dinner  in  the  evening.  The  forenoon  is  a  variable  sort  of 
affair  with  many  people.  Literally  I  suppose  it  ends  at  12 
m.  ,  but  with  me  it  is  rounded  off  by  lunch,  and  the  time  of 
that  event  depends  largely  upon  the  kitchen  divinity  that 
we  can  lure  to  this  remote  and  desolate  region.  'Faix,'  re- 
marked that  potentate,  sniffing  around  disdainfully  the  day 
we  arrived,  'does  yez  expects  the  loikes  o'  me  to  stop  in 
this  lonesomeness ?  We're  jist  at  the  ind  of  the  wourld.' 
Mamma  increased  her  wages,  which  were  already  double 
what  she  earns,  and  she  still  condescends  to  provide  our 
daily  food,  giving  me  a  forenoon  which  closes  at  her  con- 


20  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

venience.  During  this  indefinite  period  I  look  after  my 
flowers  and  birds,  sing  and  play  a  little,  read  a  little,  en- 
tertain a  little,  and  thus  reveal  to  you  a  general  littleness. 
In  the  afternoon  I  take  a  nap,  so  that  I  may  be  wide  awake 
enough  to  talk  to  a  bright  man  like  you  in  case  he  should 
appear.  Now,  are  you  not  shocked  and  pained  at  my  friv- 
olous life  ?' ' 

"You  have  come  to  the  country  for  rest  and  recupera- 
tion, Miss  Marian  ?' ' 

"Oh,  what  a  word — 'recuperation!'  It  never  entered  my 
head  that  I  had  come  into  the  country  for  that.  Do  I  sug- 
gest a  crying  need  for  recuperation?" 

"I  wouldn't  dare  tell  you  all  that  you  suggest  to  me, 
and  I  read  more  than  you  say  between  your  lines.  When 
I  approached  the  house  you  were  chatting  and  laughing 
genially  with  your  mother." 

11  Oh,  yes,  mamma  and  I  have  as  jolly  times  together  as 
two  girls." 

"That  was  evident,  and  it  made  a  very  pleasant  impres- 
sion on  me.  One  thing  is  not  so  evident,  and  it  indicates  a 
rather  one-sided  condition  of  affairs.  I  could  not  prevent 
my  thoughts  from  visiting  you  often  to-day  before  I  came 
myself,  but  I  fear  that  among  your  June-day  occupations 
there  has  not  been  one  thought  of  me." 

She  had  only  time  to  say,  sotto  voce,  "Girls  don't  tell 
everything,"  when  the  maid  announced,  from  the  door, 
"Mr.   Strahan." 

This  second  comer  was  a  young  man  precociously  ma- 
ture after  a  certain  style.  His  home  was  a  fine  old  place  in 
the  vicinity,  but  in  his  appearance  there  was  no  suggestion 
of  the  country;  nor  did  he  resemble  the  violet,  although 
he  was  somewhat  redolent  of  the  extract  of  that  modest 
flower.  He  was  dressed  in  the  extreme  of  the  prevailing 
mode,  and  evidently  cultivated  a  metropolitan  air,  rather 
than  the  unobtrusive  bearing  of  one  who  is  so  thoroughly 
a  gentleman  that  he  can  arlord  to  be  himself.  Mr.  Strahan 
was  quite  sure  of  his  welcome,  for  he  felt  that  he  brought 


A    RUDE    AWAKENING  21 

to  the  little  cottage  a  genuine  Madison  Avenue  atmosphere. 
He  was  greeted  with  the  cordiality  which  made  Miss  Vos- 
burgh's  drawing-room  one  of  the  pleasantest  of  lounging- 
places,  whether  in  town  or  country;  and  under  his  voluble 
lead  conversation  took  the  character  of  fashionable  gossip, 
which  would  have  for  the  reader  as  much  interest  as  the 
presentation  of  some  of  the  ephemeral  weeds  of  that  period. 
But  Mr.  Strahan's  blue  eyes  were  really  animated  as  he 
ventured  perilously  near  a  recent  scandal  in  high  life.  His 
budget  of  news  was  interspersed  with  compliments  to  his 
hostess,  which,  like  the  extract  on  his  handkerchief,  were 
too  pronounced.  Mr.  Lane  regarded  him  with  politely 
veiled  disgust,  but  was  too  well-bred  not  to  second  Miss 
Yosburgh's  remarks  to  the  best  of  his  ability. 

Before  long  two  or  three  more  visitors  dropped  in.  One 
from  the  hotel  was  a  millionaire,  a  widower  leisurely  en- 
gaged in  the  selection  of  a  second  wife.  Another  was  a 
young  artist  sketching  in  the  vicinity.  A  third  was  an 
officer  from  West  Point  who  knew  Mr.  Vosburgh.  There 
were  also  callers  from  the  neighborhood  during  the  even- 
ing. Mrs.  Vosburgh  made  her  appearance  early,  and  was 
almost  as  skilful  a  hostess  as  her  daughter.  But  few  of  the 
guests  remained  long.  They  had  merely  come  to  enjoy  a 
pleasant  half-hour  or  more  under  circumstances  eminently 
agreeable,  and  would  then  drive  on  and  pay  one  or  two 
visits  in  the  vicinity.  That  was  the  way  in  which  nearly 
all  Marian's  "friendships"  began. 

The  little  parlor  resounded  with  animated  talk,  laughter, 
and  music,  that  was  at  the  same  time  as  refined  as  informal. 
Mrs.  Vosburgh  would  seat  herself  at  the  piano,  that  a  new 
dancing-step  or  a  new  song  might  be  tried.  The  gentlemen 
were  at  liberty  to  light  their  cigars  and  form  groups  among 
themselves,  so  free  from  stiffness  was  Marian's  little  salon. 
Brief  time  elapsed,  however,  without  a  word  to  each,  in  her 
merry,  girlish  voice,  for  she  had  the  instincts  of  a  success- 
ful hostess,  and  a  good-natured  sense  of  honor,  which  made 
her  feel  that  each  guest  was  entitled  to  attention.     She  was 


22  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

not  much  given  to  satire,  and  the  young  men  soon  learned 
that  she  would  say  more  briery  things  to  their  faces  than 
behind  their  backs.  It  was  also  discovered  that  ill-natured 
remarks  about  callers  who  had  just  departed  were  not  toler- 
ated—that within  certain  limits  she  was  loyal  to  her  friends, 
and  that  she  was  too  high-minded  to  speak  unhandsomely 
of  one  whom  she  had  just  greeted  cordially.  If  she  did  not 
like  a  man  she  speedily  froze  him  out  of  the  ranks  of  her 
acquaintance;  but  for  such  action  there  was  not  often  occa- 
sion, since  she  and  her  mother  had  a  broad,  easy  tolerance 
of  those  generally  accepted  by  society.  Even  such  as  left 
her  parlor  finally  with  wounds  for  which  there  was  no  rapid 
healing  knew  that  no  one  would  resent  a  jest  at  their  ex- 
pense more  promptly  than  the  girl  whom  they  might  justly 
blame  for  having  smiled  too  kindly. 

Thus  she  remained  a  general  favorite.  It  was  recog- 
nized that  she  had  a  certain  kind  of  loyalty  which  could  be 
depended  upon.  Of  course  such  a  girl  would  eventually 
marry,  and  with  natural  hope  and  egotism  each  one  felt 
that  he  might  be  the  successful  competitor.  At  any  rate, 
as  in  war,  they  must  take  their  chances,  and  it  seems  that 
there  is  never  a  lack  of  those  willing  to  assume  such  risks. 

Thus  far,  however,  Marian  had  no  inclination  to  give  up 
her  present  life  of  variety  and  excitement.  She  preferred 
incense  from  many  worshippers  to  the  devotion  of  one. 
The  secret  of  this  was  perhaps  that  her  heart  had  remained 
so  untouched  and  unconscious  that  she  scarcely  knew  she 
had  one.  She  understood  the  widower's  preference,  en- 
joyed the  compliment,  and  should  there  be  occasion  would, 
in  perfect  good  taste,  beg  to  be  excused. 

Her  pulse  was  a  little  quickened  by  Mr.  Lane's  down- 
right earnestness,  and  when  matters  should  come  to  a  crisis 
she  would  say  lovely  things  to  him  of  her  esteem,  respect, 
regret,  etc.  She  would  wish  they  might  remain  friends- 
why  could  they  not,  when  she  liked  him  so  much?  As 
for  love  and  engagement,  she  did  not,  could  not,  think  of 
that  yet. 


A    RUDE    AWAKE  XING  23 

She  was  skilful,  too,  in  deferring  such,  crises,  and  to- 
night, in  obedience  to  a  signal,  Mrs.  Yosburgh  remained 
until  even  Mr.  Lane  despaired  of  another  word  in  private, 
and  departed,  fearing  to  put  his  fate  to  the  test. 

At  last  the  dainty  apartment,  the  merry  campaigning- 
ground,  was  darkened,  and  Marian,  flushed,  wearied,  and 
complacent,  stepped  out  on  the  piazza  to  breathe  for  a  few 
moments  the  cool,  fragrant  air.  She  had  dropped  into  a 
rustic  seat,  and  was  thinking  over  the  events  of  the  even- 
ing with  an  amused  smile,  when  the  following  startling 
words  arose  from  the  adjacent  shrubbery: 

"Arrah,  noo,  will  ye  niver  be  sinsible  ?  Here  I'm 
offerin3  ye  me  heart,  me  loife.  I'd  be  glad  to  wourk  for 
ye,  and  kape  ye  loike  a  leddy.  I'd  be  thrue  to  ye  ivery 
day  o'  me  loiie — an'  ye  knows  it,  but  ye  jist  goes  on  makin' 
eyes  at  this  wan  an'  flirtin'  wid  that  wan  an'  spakin'  swate 
to  the  t'other,  an'  kapin'  all  on  the  string  till  they  can  nay- 
ther  ate  nor  slape  nor  be  hall  the  min  they  were  till  ye  be- 
wildered 'em.  Ye' re  nothin'  but  a  giddy,  light-minded, 
shallow  crather,  a  spoilin'  min  for  your  own  fun.  I've 
kep'  company  wid  ye  a  year,  and  ye've  jist  blowed  hot 
and  cowld  till  I'm  not  meself  any  more,  and  have  come 
nigh  losin'  me  place.  Noo,  by  St.  Patrick,  ye  must  show 
whether  ye're  a  woman  or  a  heartless  jade  that  will  sind  a 
man  to  the  divil  for  sport." 

These  words  were  poured  out  with  the  impetuosity  of 
long- suffering  endurance  finally  vanquished,  and  before  the 
speaker  had  concluded  Marian  was  on  her  way  to  the  door, 
that  she  might  not  listen  to  a  conversation  of  so  delicate  a 
nature.  But  she  did  not  pass  beyond  hearing  before  part  of 
the  reply  reached  her. 

"Faix,  an"  I'm  no  wourse  than  me  young  mistress." 

It  was  a  chance  arrow,  but  it  went  straight  to  the  mark, 
and  when  Marian  reached  her  room  her  cheeks  were  aflame. 


24  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER   II 

A   NEW   ACQUAINTANCE 

GROSS  matter  can  change  form  and  character  in  a 
moment,  when  merely  touched  by  the  effective 
agent.  It  is  easy  to  imagine,  therefore,  how  read- 
ily a  woman's  quick  mind  might  be  influenced  by  a  truth 
or  a  thought  of  practical  and  direct  application.  All  the 
homilies  ever  written,  all  the  counsel  of  matrons  and  sages, 
could  not  have  produced  on  Marian  so  deep  an  impression 
as  was  made  by  these  few  chance  words.  They  came  as  a 
commentary,  not  only  on  her  past  life,  but  on  the  past  few 
hours.  Was  it  true,  then,  that  she  was  no  better  than  the 
coquettish  maid,  the  Irish  servant  in  the  family's  employ? 
Was  she,  with  her  education  and  accomplishments,  her 
social  position  and  natural  gifts,  acting  on  no  higher  plane, 
influenced  by  no  worthier  motives  and  no  loftier  ambition? 
Was  the  ignorant  girl  justified  in  quoting  her  example  in 
extenuation  of  a  course  that  to  a  plain  and  equally  ignorant 
man  seemed  unwomanly  to  the  last  degree  ? 

Wherein  was  she  better?  Wherein  lay  the  difference 
between  her  and  the  maid  ? 

She  covered  her  hot  face  with  her  hands  as  the  question 
took  the  form:  "Wherein  am  I  worse  ?  Is  not  our  prin- 
ciple of  action  the  same,  while  I  have  greater  power  and 
have  been  crippling  higher  types  of  men,  and  giving  them, 
for  sport,  an  impulse  toward  the  devil  ?  Fenton  Lane  has 
just  gone  from  my  side  with  trouble  in  his  eyes.  He  will 
not  be  himself  to-morrow,  not  half  the  man  he  might   be. 


A    NEW   ACQUAINTANCE  25 

He  left  me  in  doubt  and  fear.  Could  I  do  anything  op- 
pressed with  doubt  and  fear?  He  has  set  his  heart  on 
what  can  never  be.  Could  I  have  prevented  him  from 
doing  this  ?  One  thing  at  least  is  certain — I  have  not  tried 
to  prevent  it,  and  I  fear  there  have  been  many  little  name- 
less things  which  he  would  regard  as  encouragement.  And 
he  is  only  one.  With  others  I  have  gone  further  and  they 
have  fared  worse.  It  is  said  that  Mr.  Folger,  whom  I  re- 
fused last  winter,  is  becoming  dissipated.  Mr.  Arton  shuns 
society  and  sneers  at  women.  Oh,  don't  let  me  think  of  any 
more.  What  have  I  been  doing  that  this  coarse  kitchen- 
maid  can  run  so  close  a  parallel  between  her  life  and  mine  ? 
How  unwomanly  and  repulsive  it  all  seems,  as  that  man  put 
it !  My  delight  and  pride  have  been  my  gentleman  friends, 
and  what  one  of  them  is  the  better,  or  has  a  better  prospect 
for  life,  because  of  having  known  me  ?  Could  there  be  a 
worse  satire  on  all  the  fine  things  written  about  woman  and 
her  influence  than  my  hitherto  vain  and  complacent  self?" 
Sooner  or  later  conscience  tells  the  truth  to  all;  and  the 
sooner  the  better,  unless  the  soul  arraigned  is  utterly  weak, 
or  else  belongs  essentially  to  the  criminal  classes,  which 
require  almost  a  miracle  to  reverse  their  evil  gravitation. 
Marian  Yosburgh  was  neither  weak  nor  criminal  at  heart. 
Thus  far  she  had  yielded  thoughtlessly,  inconsiderately, 
rather  than  deliberately,  to  the  circumstances  and  tradi- 
tions of  her  life.  Her  mother  had  been  a  belle  and  some- 
thing of  a  coquette,  and,  having  had  her  career,  was  in  the 
main  a  good  and  sensible  wife.  She  had  given  her  husband 
little  trouble  if  not  much  help.  She  had  slight  interest  in 
that  which  made  his  life,  and  slight  comprehension  of  it, 
but  in  affectionate  indifference  she  let  him  go  his  way,  and 
was  content  with  her  domestic  afiairs,  her  daughter,  and  her 
novel.  Marian  had  unthinkingly  looked  forward  to  much 
the  same  experience  as  her  natural  lot.  To-night  she  found 
herself  querying:  "Are  there  men  to-day  who  are  not  half 
what  they  might  have  been  because  of  mamma's  delusive 
smiles  ?     Have  any  gone  down   into  shadows   darker  than 

Roe— VI— 2 


26  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

those  cast  by  misfortune  and  death,  because  she  permitted 
herself  to  become  the  light  of  their  lives  and  then  turned 
away  ?" 

Then  came  the  rather  painful  reflection:  "Mamma  is  not 
one  to  be  troubled  by  such  thoughts.  It  does  not  even 
worry  her  that  she  is  so  little  to  papa,  and  that  he  virtu- 
ally carries  on  his  life-work  alone.  I  don't  see  how  I  can 
continue  my  old  life  after  to-night.  I  had  better  shut  my- 
self up  in  a  convent;  yet  just  how  I  can  change  everything 
I  scarcely  know. ' ' 

The  night  proved  a  perturbed  and  almost  sleepless  one 
from  the  chaos  and  bitterness  of  her  thoughts.  The  old  was 
breaking  up;  the  new,  beginning. 

The  morning  found  her  listless,  discontented,  and  un- 
happy. The  glamour  had  faded  out  of  her  former  life. 
She  could  not  continue  the  tactics  practiced  in  coarse  imi- 
tation by  the  Irish  servant,  who  took  her  cue  as  far  as  pos- 
sible from  her  mistress.  The  repugnance  was  due  as  much 
to  the  innate  delicacy  and  natural  superiority  of  Marian's 
nature  as  to  her  conscience.  Her  clear,  practical  sense  per- 
ceived that  her  course  differed  from  the  other  only  in  being 
veneered  by  the  refinements  of  her  social  position — that  the 
evil  results  were  much  greater.  The  young  lady's  friends 
were  capable  of  receiving  more  harm  than  the  maid  could 
inflict  upon  her  acquaintances. 

There  would  be  callers  again  during  the  day  and  even- 
ing, and  she  did  not  wish  to  see  them.  Their  society  now 
would  be  like  a  glass  of  champagne  from  which  the  life  had 
effervesced. 

At  last  in  her  restlessness  and  perplexity  she  decided  to 
spend  a  day  or  two  with  her  father  in  their  city  home,  where 
he  was  camping  out,  as  he  termed  it.  She  took  a  train  to 
town,  and  sent  a  messenger  boy  to  his  office  with  a  note  ask- 
ing him  to  dine  with  her. 

Mr.  Vosburgh  looked  at  her  a  little  inquiringly  as  he  en- 
tered his  home,  which  had  the  comfortless  aspect  of  a  city 
house  closed  for  the  summer. 


A    NEW    ACQUAINTANCE  27 

"Am  I  de  tropy  papa?  I  have  come  to  town  for  a  little 
quiet,  and  to  do  some  shopping." 

"Come  to  New  York  for  quiet?" 

1 '  Yes.  The  country  is  the  gayest  place  now,  and  you 
know  a  good  many  are  coming  and  going.  I  am  tired,  and 
thought  an  evening  or  two  with  you  would  be  a  pleasant 
change.     You  are  not  too  busy?" 

"It  certainly  will  be  a  change  for  you,  Marian." 

"Now  there's  a  world  of  satire  in  that  remark,  and  de- 
served, too,  I  fear.     Mayn't  I  stay?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  till  you  are  tired  of  me;  and  that  won't  be 
long  in  this  dull  place,  for  we  are  scarcely  in  a  condition 
now  to  receive  callers,  you  know." 

"What  makes  you  think  I  shall  be  tired  of  you  soon, 
papa?" 

"Oh — well— I'm  not  very  entertaining.  You  appear  to 
like  variety.     I  suppose  it  is  the  way  with  girls." 

"You  are  not  consumed  with  admiration  for  girls'  ways, 
are  you,  papa?" 

"I  confess,  my  dear,  that  I  have  not  given  the  subject 
much  research.  As  a  naturalist  would  say,  I  have  no  doubt 
that  you  and  your  class  have  curious  habits  and  interesting 
peculiarities.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  life,  you  know,  which 
a  busy  man  has  to  accept  in  a  general  way,  especially 
when  charged  with  duties  which  are  a  severe  and  con- 
stant strain  upon  his  mind.  I  try  to  leave  you  and  your 
mother  as  free  from  care  as  possible.  You  left  her  well,  I 
trust?" 

"Very  well,  and  all  going  on  as  usual.  I'm  dissatisfied 
with  myself,  papa,  and  you  unconsciously  make  me  far  more 
so.  Is  a  woman  to  be  only  a  man's  plaything,  and  a  dan- 
gerous one  at  that?" 

"Why,  Marian,  you  are  in  a  mood!  I  suppose  a  wo- 
man, like  a  man,  can  be  very  much  what  she  pleases. 
You  certainly  have  had  a  chance  to  find  out  what  pleases 
most  women  in  your  circle  of  acquaintances,  and  have  made 
it  quite  clear  what  pleases  you." 


28  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

"Satire  again,"  she  said,  despondently.  "I  thought  per- 
haps you  would  advise  and  help  me. ' ' 

He  came  and  took  her  face  between  his  hands,  looking 
earnestly  into  her  troubled  blue  eyes. 

11  Are  you  not  content  to  be  a  conventional  woman  ?"  he 
asked,  after  a  moment. 

"No!"   was  her  emphatic  answer. 

"Well,  there  are  many  ways  of  being  a  little  outri  in  this 
age  and  land,  especially  at  this  stormy  period.  Perhaps  you 
want  a  career — something  that  will  give  you  a  larger  place 
in  the  public  eye?" 

She  turned  away  to  hide  the  tears  that  would  come. 
"Oh,  papa,  you  don't  understand  me  at  all,  and  I  scarcely 
understand  myself,"  she  faltered.  "In  some  respects  you 
are  as  conventional  as  mamma,  and  are  almost  a  Turk  in 
your  ideas  of  the  seclusion  of  women.  The  idea  of  my 
wanting  public  notoriety!  As  I  feel  now,  I'd  rather  go  to 
a  convent." 

"We'll  go  to  dinner  first;  then  a  short  drive  in  the  park, 
for  you  look  pale,  and  I  long  for  a  little  fresh  air  myself.  I 
have  been  at  my  desk  since  seven  this  morning,  and  have 
had  only  a  sandwich. ' ' 

"Why  do  you  have  to  work  so  hard,  papa?" 

"I  can  give  you  two  reasons  in  a  breath — you  mentioned 
•shopping,'  and  my  country  is  at  war.  They  don't  seem 
very  near  of  kin,  do  they  ?  Documents  relating  to  both 
converge  in  my  desk,  however." 

"Have  I  sent  you  more  bills  than  usual?" 

"Not  more  than  usual." 

"I  believe  I'm  a  fool." 

1 '  I  know  you  are  a  very  pretty  little  girl,  who  will  feel 
better  after  dinner  and  a  drive, ' '  was  the  laughing  reply. 

They  were  soon  seated  in  a  quiet  family  restaurant,  but 
the  young  girl  was  too  perturbed  in  mind  to  enjoy  the  few 
courses  ordered.  With  self-reproach  she  recognized  the 
truth  that  she  was  engaged  in  the  rather  unusual  occupation 
of  becoming  acquainted  with  her  father.      He  sat  before 


A    NEW  ACQUAINTANCE  29 

her,  with  his  face,  generally  stern  and  inscrutable,  softened 
by  a  desire  to  be  companionable  and  sympathetic.  Accord- 
ing to  his  belief  she  now  had  "a  mood,"  and  after  a  day  or 
two  of  quiet  retirement  from  the  world  she  would  relapse 
into  her  old  enjoyment  of  social  attention,  which  would  be 
all  the  deeper  for  its  brief  interruption. 

Mr.  Vosburgh  was  of  German  descent.  In  his  daily  life 
he  had  become  Americanized,  and  was  as  practical  in  his 
methods  as  the  shrewd  people  with  whom  he  dealt,  and 
whom  he  often  outwitted.  Apart  from  this  habit  of  coping 
with  life  just  as  he  found  it,  he  had  an  inner  nature  of  which 
few  ever  caught  a  glimpse — a  spirit  and  an  imagination 
deeply  tinged  with  German  ideality  and  speculation. 
Often,  when  others  slept,  this  man,  who  appeared  so 
resolute,  hard,  and  uncompromising  in  the  performance 
of  duties,  and  who  was  understood  by  but  few,  would  read 
deeply  in  metaphysics  and  romantic  poetry.  Therefore,  the 
men  and  women  who  dwelled  in  his  imagination  were  not  such 
as  he  had  much  to  do  with  in  real  life.  Indeed,  he  had  come 
to  regard  the  world  of  reality  and  that  of  fancy  as  entirely 
distinct,  and  to  believe  that  only  here  and  there,  as  a  man 
or  woman  possessed  something  like  genius,  would  there  be 
a  marked  deviation  from  ordinary  types.  The  slight  differ- 
ences, the  little  characteristic  meannesses  or  felicities  that 
distinguished  one  from  another,  did  not  count  for  very 
much  in  his  estimation.  When  a  knowledge  of  such  indi- 
vidual traits  was  essential  to  his  plans,  he  mastered  them 
with  singular  keenness  and  quickness  of  comprehension. 
When  such  knowledge  was  unnecessary,  or  as  soon  as  it 
ceased  to  be  of  service,  he  dismissed  the  extraneous  per- 
sonalities from  his  mind  almost  as  completely  as  if  they 
had  had  no  existence.  Few  men  were  less  embarrassed 
with  acquaintances  than  he;  yet  he  had  an  observant  eye 
and  a  retentive  memory.  When  he  wanted  a  man  he  rarely 
failed  to  find  the  right  one.  In  the  selection  and  use  of  men 
he  appeared  to  act  like  an  intelligent  and  silent  force,  rather 
than  as  a  man  full  of  human  interests  and  sympathies.     He 


30  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

rarely  spoke  of  himself,  even  in  the  most  casual  way.  Most 
of  those  with  whom  he  mingled  knew  merely  that  he  was  an 
agent  of  the  government,  and  that  he  hept  his  own  counsel. 
His  wife  was  to  him  a  type  of  the  average  American  woman 
— pretty,  self-complacent,  so  nervous  as  to  require  kind, 
even  treatment,  content  with  feminalities,  and  sufficiently 
intelligent  to  talk  well  upon  every-day  affairs.  In  her 
society  he  smiled  at  her,  said  "Yes,"  good-humoredly,  to 
almost  everything,  and  found  slight  incentive  to  depart 
from  his  usual  reticence.  She  had  learned  the  limits  of  her 
range,  and  knew  that  within  it  there  was  entire  liberty, 
beyond  it  a  will  like  adamant.  They  got  on  admirably 
together,  for  she  craved  nothing  further  in  the  way  of  lib- 
erty and  companionship  than  was  accorded  her,  while  he 
soon  recognized  that  the  prize  carried  off  from  other  com- 
petitors could  no  more  follow  him  into  his  realm  of  thought 
and  action  than  she  could  accompany  him  on  a  campaign. 
At  last  he  had  concluded  philosophically  that  it  was  just  as 
well.  He  was  engaged  in  matters  that  should  not  be  inter- 
fered with  or  babbled  about,  and  he  could  come  and  go  with- 
out questioning.  He  had  occasionally  thought:  "If  she  were 
such  a  woman  as  I  have  read  of  and  imagined — if  she  could 
supplement  my  reason  with  the  subtilty  of  intuition  and  the 
retience  which  some  of  her  sex  have  manifested — she  would 
double  my  power  and  share  my  inner  life,  for  there  are  few 
whom  I  can  trust.  The  thing  is  impossible,  however,  and 
so  I  am  glad  she  is  content." 

As  for  Marian,  she  had  promised,  in  his  view,  to  be  but 
a  charming  repetition  of  her  mother,  with  perhaps  a  mind 
of  larger  calibre.  She  had  learned  more  and  had  acquired 
more  accomplishments,  but  all  this  resulted,  possibly,  from 
her  better  advantages.  Her  drawing-room  conversation 
seemed  little  more  than  the  ordinary  small  talk  of  the 
day,  fluent  and  piquant,  while  the  girl  herself  was  as  un- 
disturbed by  the  vital  questions  of  the  hour  and  of  life, 
upon  which  he  dwelt,  as  if  she  had  been  a  child.  He 
knew  that  she  received  much  attention,  but  it  excited  lit- 


A    NEW   ACQUAINTANCE  31 

tie  thought  on  his  part,  and  no  surprise.  He  believed  that 
her  mother  was  perfectly  competent  to  look  after  the  pro- 
prieties, and  that  young  fellows,  as  had  been  the  case  with 
himself,  would  always  seek  pretty,  well-bred  girls,  and  take 
their  chances  as  to  what  the  women  who  might  become  their 
wives  should  prove  to  be. 

Marian  looked  with  awakening  curiosity  and  interest  at 
the  face  before  her,  yet  it  was  the  familiar  visage  of  her 
father.     She  had  seen  it  all  her  life,  but  now  felt  that  she 
had  never  before  seen  it  in  its  true  significance — its  strong 
lines,  square  jaw,  and  quiet  gray  eyes,  with  their  direct, 
steady  gaze.      He  had  come  and  gone   before   her  daily, 
petted  her  now  and  then  a  little,  met  her  requests  in  the 
main  good-humoredly,  paid   her   bills,   and  would  protect 
her  with  his  life;  yet  a  sort  of  dull  wonder  came  over  her 
as  she  admitted  to  herself  that  he  was  a  stranger  to  her. 
She  knew  little  of  his  work  and  duty,  less  of  his  thoughts, 
the  mental  realm  in  which  the  man  himself  dwelt.     What 
were  its   landmarks,    what   its   characteristic   features,   she 
could  not  tell.     One  may  be  familiar  with  the  outlines  of 
a  country  on  a  map,  yet  be  ignorant  of  the  scenery,  produc- 
tions, inhabitants,  governing  forces,  and  principles.     Her 
very  father  was  to  her  but  a  man  in  outline.     She  knew 
little  of  the  thoughts  that  peopled  his  brain,  of  the  motives 
and  principles  that  controlled  his  existence,  giving  it  indi- 
viduality, and  even  less  of  the  resulting  action  with  which 
his  busy  life  abounded.     Although  she   had   crossed   the 
threshold  of   womanhood,    she  was  still   to    him    the  self- 
pleasing  child  that  he  had  provided  for  since  infancy;  and 
he  was,  in  her  view,  the  man  to  whom,  according  to  the 
law   of   nature  and   the  family,   she   was   to   look  for  the 
maintenance  of  her  young  life,  with  its  almost  entire  sep- 
aration in  thoughts,   pleasures,   and  interests.     She   loved 
him,  of  course.     She  had  always  loved  him,  from  the  time 
when  she  had  stretched  forth  her  baby  hands  to  be  taken 
and  fondled  for  a  few  moments  and  then  relinquished  to 
others.     Practically  she  had  dwelled  with  others  ever  since. 


32  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Now,  as  a  result,  she  did  not  understand  him,  nor  he  her. 
She  would  miss  him  as  she  would  oxygen  from  the  air. 
Now  she  began  to  perceive  that,  although  he  was  the 
unobtrusive  source  of  her  life,  home,  education,  and  the 
advantages  of  her  lot,  he  was  not  impersonal,  but  a  human 
being  as  truly  as  herself.  Did  he  want  more  from  her  than 
the  common  and  instinctive  affection' of  a  child  for  its  par- 
ent? If  to  this  she  added  intelligent  love,  appreciation, 
and  sympathy,  would  he  care?  If  she  should  be  able  to 
say,  "Papa,  I  am  kin  to  you,  not  merely  in  flesh  and  blood, 
but  in  mind,  hope,  and  aspiration;  I  share  with  you  that 
which  makes  your  life,  with  its  success  and  failure,  not  as 
the  child  who  may  find  luxurious  externals  curtailed  or 
increased,  but  as  a  sympathetic  woman  who  understands 
the  more  vital  changes  in  spiritual  vicissitude" — if  she 
could  truthfully  say  all  this,  would  he  be  pleased  and 
reveal  himself  to  her? 

Thoughts  like  these  passed  through  her  mind  as  they 
dined  together  and  drove  in  the  park.  When  at  last  they 
returned  and  sat  in  the  dimly-lighted  parlor,  Mr.  Yosburgh 
recognized  that  her  "mood"  had  not  passed  away. 


A   NEW   FRIEND  35 


M 


CHAPTEK   III 

A     NEW     FRIEND 

ARIAN,"  asked  her  father,  after  smoking  awhile 
in  silence,  ''what  did  you  mean  by  your  emphatic 
negative  when  I  asked  yon  if  you  were  not  content 
to  be  a  conventional  woman  ?     How  much  do  you  mean  ?' ' 
"I  wish  you  would  help  me  find  out,  papa." 
"How!  don't  you  know?" 
"I  do  not;  I  am  all  at  sea." 

"Well,  my  dear,  to  borrow  your  own  illustration,  you 
can't  be  far  from  shore  yet.  Why  not  return  ?  You  hare 
seemed  entirely  satisfied  thus  far." 

"Were  you  content  with  me,  papa?" 

"I   think   you   have   been   a   very   good   little  girl,    as 

girls  go." 

"  'Good  little  girl,  as  girls  go;'  that's  all." 

"That's  more  than  can  be  said  of  many." 

"Papa,  I'm  not  a  little  girl;  I  am  a  woman  of  twenty 
years. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  know;  and  quite  as  sensible  as  many  at  forty." 

1  ■  I  am  no  companion  for  you. 

"Indeed  you  are;  I've  enjoyed  having  you  with  me  this 
evening  exceedingly." 

"Yes,  as  you  would  have  enjoyed  my  society  ten  years 
ago.  I've  been  but  a  little  girl  to  you  all  the  time.  Do 
you  know  the  thought  that  has  been  uppermost  in  my  mind 
since  you  joined  me  ?' ' 

"How  should  I?  How  long  does  one  thought  remain 
uppermost  in  a  girl's  mind?" 


34  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

"I  don't  blame  you  for  your  estimate.  My  thought  is 
this — we  are  not  acquainted  with  each  other." 

"I  think  I  was  acquainted  with  you,  Marian,  before  this 
mood  began." 

"Yes,  I  think  you  were;  yet  I  was  capable  of  this 
'mood,'  as  you  call  it,  before." 

"My  child,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh,  coming  to  her  side  and 
stroking  her  hair,  "I  have  spoken  more  to  draw  you  out 
than  for  anything  else.  Heaven  forbid  that  you  for  a  mo- 
ment should  think  me  indifferent  to  anything  that  relates 
to  your  welfare!  You  wish  me  to  advise,  to  help  you. 
Before  I  can  do  this  I  must  have  your  confidence,  I  must 
know  your  thoughts  and  impulses.  You  can  scarcely  have 
a  purpose  yet.  Even  a  quack  doctor  will  not  attempt  diag- 
nosis or  prescribe  his  nostrum  without  some  knowledge  of 
the  symptoms.  When  I  Jast  saw  you  in  the  country  you 
certainly  appeared  like  a  conventional  society  girl  of  an 
attractive  type,  and  were  evidently  satisfied  so  to  remain. 
You  see  I  speak  frankly,  and  reveal  to  you  my  habit  of 
making  quick  practical  estimates,  and  of  taking  the  world 
as  I  find  it.  You  say  you  were  capable  of  this  mood — lei 
us  call  it  an  aspiration — before.  I  do  not  deny  this,  yet 
doubt  it.  When  people  change  it  is  because  they  are  ripe, 
or  ready  for  change,  as  are  things  in  nature.  One  can  force 
or  retard  nature;  but  I  don't  believe  much  in  intervention. 
With  many  I  doubt  whether  there  is  even  much  opportu- 
nity for  it.  They  are  capable  of  only  the  gradual  modifica- 
tion of  time  and  circumstances.  Young  people  are  apt  to 
have  spasms  of  enthusiasm,  or  of  self-reproach  and  dissatis- 
faction. These  are  of  little  account  in  the  long  run,  unless 
there  is  fibre  enough  in  character  to  face  certain  questions, 
decide  them,  and  then  act  resolutely  on  definite  lines  of 
conduct.  I  have  now  given  you  my  views,  not  as  to  a 
little  child,  but  as  to  a  mature  women  of  twenty.  Jesting 
apart,  you  are  old  enough,  Marian,  to  think  for  yourself, 
and  decide  whether  you  will  be  conventional  or  not.  The 
probabilities  are  that  you  will  follow  the  traditions  of  your 


A    NEW  FRIEND  35 

past  in  a  very  ladylike  way.  That  is  the  common  law. 
You  are  too  well-bred  and  refined  to  do  anything  that 
society  would  condemn." 

4 'You  are  not  encouraging,  papa." 

"Nor  am  I  discouraging.  If  you  have  within  you  the 
force  to  break  from  your  traditions  and  stop  drifting,  you 
will  make  the  fact  evident  If  you  haven't  it  would  be 
useless  for  me  to  attempt  to  drag,  drive,  or  coax  you  out 
of  old  ways.  I  am  too  busy  a  man  to  attempt  the  useless. 
But  until  you  tell  me  your  present  mental  attitude,  and 
what  has  led  to  it,  we  are  talking  somewhat  at  random. 
I  have  merely  aimed  to  give  you  the  benefit  of  some 
experience." 

"Perhaps  you  are  taking  the  right  course;  I  rather  think 
you  are.  Perhaps  I  prove  what  a  child  I  am  still,  because 
I  feel  that  I  should  like  to  have  you  treat  me  more  as  you 
did  when  I  was  learning  to  walk.  Then  you  stretched  out 
your  hands,  and  sustained  me,  and  showed  me  step  by  step. 
Papa,  if  this  is  a  mood,  and  I  go  back  to  my  old,  shallow 
life,  with  its  motives,  its  petty  and  unworthy  triumphs,  I 
shall  despise  myself,  and  ever  have  the  humiliating  con- 
sciousness that  I  am  doing  what  is  contemptible.  No  mat- 
ter how  one  obtains  the  knowledge  of  a  truth  or  a  secret, 
that  knowledge  exists,  remains,  and  one  can't  be  the  same 
afterward.  It  makes  my  cheeks  tingle  that  I  obtained  my 
knowledge  as  I  did.  It  came  like  a  broad  glare  of  garish 
light,  in  which  I  saw  myself;"  and  she  told  him  the  circum- 
stances. 

He  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh,  and  remarked,  "Pat  did 
put  the  ethics  of  the  thing  strongly. ' ' 

"He  made  'the  thing,'  as  you  call  it,  odious  then  and 
forever.  I've  been  writhing  in  self -con  tempt  ever  since. 
When  to  be  conventional  is  to  be  like  a  kitchen-maid,  and 
worse,  do  you  wonder  at  my  revolt  from  the  past?" 

"Others  won't  see  it  in  that  light,  my  dear." 

"What  does  it  matter  how  others  see  it?  I  have  my 
own  life  to  live,  to  make  or  mar.     How  can  I  go  on  here- 


36  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

after  amusing  myself  in  what  now  seems  a  vulgar,  base, 
unwomanly  way  ?  It  was  a  coarse,  rude  hand  that  awak- 
ened me,  papa,  but  I  am  awake.  Since  I  have  met  you 
I  have  had  another  humiliation.  As  I  said,  I  am  not  even 
acquainted  with  you.  I  have  never  shown  any  genuine  in- 
terest in  that  which  makes  your  life,  and  you  have  no  more 
thought  of  revealing  yourself  and  your  work  to  me  than  to 
a  child." 

"Marian,"  said  her  father,  slowly,  "I  think  you  are  not 
only  capable  of  a  change,  but  ripe  for  it.  You  inspire  hope 
within  me,  and  this  fact  carries  with  it  the  assurance  that 
you  also  inspire  respect.  No,  my  dear,  you  don't  know 
much  about  me;  very  few  do.  No  man  with  a  nature  like 
mine  reveals  himself  where  there  is  no  desire  for  the  knowl- 
edge, no  understanding,  no  sympathy,  or  even  where  all 
these  exist,  unless  prompted  by  his  heart.  You  know  I 
am  the  last  one  in  the  world  to  put  myself  on  exhibition. 
But  it  would  be  a  heavenly  joy  to  me — I  might  add  surprise 
— if  my  own  daughter  became  like  some  of  the  women  of 
whom  I  have  read  and  dreamed;  and  I  do  read  and  dream 
of  that  in  which  you  little  imagine  me  to  be  interested.  To 
the  world  I  am  a  stern,  reticent,  practical  man.  I  must  be 
such  in  my  calling.  In  my  home  I  have  tried  to  be  good- 
natured,  affectionate,  and  philosophical.  I  have  seen  little 
opportunity  for  anything  more.  I  do  not  complain,  but 
merely  state  a  fact  which  indicates  the  general  lot.  We 
can  rarely  escape  the  law  of  heredity,  however.  A  poet 
and  a  metaphysician  were  among  our  German  ancestry; 
therefore,  leading  from  the  business-like  and  matter-of-fact 
apartment  of  my  mind,  I  have  a  private  door  by  which  I 
can  slip  away  into  the  realm  of  speculation,  romance,  and 
ideals.  You  perceive  that  I  have  no  unnatural  or  shame- 
faced reticence  about  this  habit.  I  tell  you  of  it  the  mo- 
ment you  show  sufficient  interest  to  warrant  my  speaking." 

"But,  papa,  I  cannot  hope  to  approach  or  even  suggest 
the  ideals  of  your  fancy,  dressed,  no  doubt,  in  mediaeval 
costume,  and  talking  in  blank  verse." 


A    NEW   FRIEND  37 

"That's  a  superficial  view,  Marian.  Neither  poetic  or 
outlandish  costume,  nor  the  impossible  language  put  into 
the  mouths  of  their  creations  by  the  old  bards,  makes  the 
unconventional  woman.  There  is,  in  truth,  a  convention- 
ality about  these  very  things,  only  it  is  antiquated.  It  is 
not  a  woman's  dress  or  phraseology  that  makes  her  an  ideal 
or  an  inspiration,  but  what  she  is  herself.  No  two  leaves 
are  alike  on  the  same  tree,  but  they  are  all  enough  alike  to 
make  but  one  impression.  Some  are  more  shapely  than 
others,  and  flutter  from  their  support  with  a  fairer  and 
more  conspicuous  grace  to  the  closely  observant;  but  there 
is  nothing  independent  about  them,  nothing  to  distinguish 
them  especially  from  their  companions.  They  fulfil  their 
general  purpose,  and  fall  away.  This  simile  applies  to  the 
majority  of  people.  Not  only  poetry  and  romance,  but  his- 
tory also,  gives  us  instances  wherein  men  and  women  differ 
and  break  away  from  accepted  types,  some  in  absurd  or 
grotesque  ways,  others  through  the  sheer  force  of  gifted 
selfishness,  and  others  still  in  natural,  noble  development 
of  graces  of  heart  and  mind." 

"Stop  generalizing,  and  tell  me,  your  silly,  vain,  flirta- 
tious daughter,  how  I  can  be  unconventional  in  this  prosaic 
mid- day  of  civilization." 

"Prosaic  day  ?  You  are  mistaken,  Marian.  There  never 
was  a  period  like  it.  Barbaric  principles,  older  than  Abra- 
ham, are  now  to  triumph,  or  give  place  to  a  better  and  more 
enlightened  human  nature.  We  almost  at  this  moment  hear 
the  echoes  of  a  strife  in  which  specimens  of  the  best  man- 
hood of  the  age  are  arrayed  against  one  another  in  a  strug- 
gle such  as  the  world  has  never  witnessed.  I  have  my  part 
in  the  conflict,  and  it  brings  to  me  great  responsibilities  and 
dangers." 

"Dangers!     You  in  danger,  papa?" 

"Yes,  certainly.  Since  you  wish  to  be  treated  like  a 
woman,  and  not  a  child — since  you  wish  me  to  show  my 
real  life — you  shall  know  the  truth.  I  am  controlled  by  the 
government  that  is  engaged  in  a  life-and-death  struggle  to 


38  AN    ORIGINAL   BELLS 

maintain  its  own  existence  and  preserve  for  the  nation  its 
heritage  of  liberty.  Thus  far  I  have  been  able  to  serve 
the  cause  in  quiet,  unrecognized  ways  that  I  need  not  now 
explain;  but  I  am  one  who  must  obey  orders,  and  I  wish  to 
do  so,  for  my  heart  is  in  the  work.  I  am  no  better  than 
other  men  who  are  risking  all.  Mamma  knows  this  in  a 
way,  but  she  does  not  fully  comprehend  it.  Fortunately 
she  is  not  one  of  those  who  take  very  anxious  thought  for 
the  morrow,  and  you  know  I  am  inclined  to  let  things  go  on 
quietly  as  long  as  they  will.  Thus  far  I  have  merely  gone 
to  an  office  as  I  did  before  the  war,  or  else  have  been  absent 
on  trips  that  were  apparently  civilian  in  character,  and  it 
has  been  essential  that  I  should  have  as  little  distraction 
of  mind  as  possible.  1  have  lived  long  in  hope  that  some 
decisive  victory  might  occur;  but  the  future  grows  darker, 
instead  of  lighter,  and  the  struggle,  instead  of  culminating 
speedily,  promises  to  become  more  deadly  and  to  be  pro- 
longed. There  is  but  one  way  out  of  it  for  me,  and  that  is 
through  the  final  triumph  of  the  old  flag.  Therefore,  what 
a  day  will  bring  forth  God  only  knows.  There  have  been 
times  when  I  wished  to  tell  you  something  of  this,  but 
there  seemed  little  opportunity.  As  you  said,  a  good  many 
were  coming  and  going,  you  seemed  happy  and  preoccupied, 
and  I  got  into  the  habit  of  reasoning,  'Every  day  that  passes 
without  a  thought  of  trouble  is  just  so  much  gained;  and  it 
may  be  unnecessary  to  cloud  her  life  with  fear  and  anxiety' ; 
yet  perhaps  it  would  be  mistaken  kindness  to  let  trouble 
come  suddenly,  like  an  unexpected  blow.  I  confess,  how- 
ever, that  I  have  had  a  little  natural  longing  to  be  more  to 
my  only  child  than  I  apparently  was,  but  each  day  brought 
its  increasing  press  of  work  and  responsibility,  its  perplex- 
ing and  far-reaching  questions.  Thus  time  has  passed,  and 
I  said,  'Let  her  be  a  light-hearted  girl  as  long  as  she  can.'  " 
44 Oh,  papa,  what  a  blind,  heartless  fool  I've  been!" 
"No,  my  dear,  only  young  and  thoughtless,  like  thou- 
sands of  others.  It  so  happened  that  nothing  occurred  to 
awaken  you.    One  day  of  your  old  life  begat  another.    That 


A    NEW    FRIEND  39 

so  slight  a  thing  should  make  you  think,  and  desire  to  be 
different,  promises  much  to  me,  for  if  your  nature  had  been 
shallow  and  commonplace,  you  wouldn't  have  been  much 
disturbed.  If  you  have  the  spirit  your  words  indicate  to- 
night, it  will  be  better  for  you  to  face  life  in  the  height  and 
depth  of  its  reality,  trusting  in  God  and  your  own  woman- 
hood for  strength  to  meet  whatever  comes.  Those  who  live 
on  this  higher  plane  have  deeper  sorrows,  but  also  far 
richer  joys,  than  those  who  exist  from  hand  to  mouth,  as 
it  were,  in  the  immmediate  and  material  present.  What's 
more,  they  cease  to  be  plebeian  in  the  meaner  sense  of  the 
word,  and  achieve  at  one  step  a  higher  caste.  They  have 
broken  the  conventional  type,  and  all  the  possibilities  of 
development  open  at  once.  You  are  still  a  young,  inex- 
perienced girl,  and  have  done  little  in  life  except  learn 
your  lessons  and  amuse  yourself,  yet  in  your  dissatisfaction 
and  aspiration  you  are  almost  infinitely  removed  from  what 
you  were  yesterday,  for  you  have  attained  the  power  to 
grow  and  develop." 

"You  are  too  philosophical  for  me.  How  shall  I  grow 
or  develop?" 

"I  scarcely  know. " 

'•What  definite  thing  shall  I  do  to-morrow?" 

"Do  what  the  plant  does.  Receive  the  influence  that 
tends  to  quicken  your  best  impulses  and  purposes;  follow 
your  awakened  conscience  naturally.  Do  what  seems  to  you 
womanly,  right,  noble  in  little  things  or  in  great  things, 
should  there  be  opportunity.  Did  Shakespeare,  as  a  child, 
propose  to  write  the  plays  which  have  made  him  chief 
among  men  ?  He  merely  yielded  to  the  impulse  when  it 
came.  The  law  holds  good  down  to  you,  my  little  girl. 
You  have  an  impulse  which  is  akin  to  that  of  genius. 
Instead  of  continuing  your  old  indolent,  strolling  gait  on 
the  dead  level  of  life,  you  have  left  the  beaten  track  and 
faced  the  mountain  of  achievement.  Every  resolute  step 
forward  takes  you  higher,  even  though  it  be  but  an  inch; 
yet  I  cannot  see  the  path  by  which  you  will  climb,  or  tell 


40  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

you  the  height  you  may  gain.  The  main  things  is  the  pur- 
pose to  ascend.  For  those  bent  on  noble  achievement  there 
is  always  a  path.  God  only  knows  to  what  it  may  bring 
you.  One  step  leads  to  another,  and  you  will  be  guided 
better  by  the  instincts  and  laws  of  your  own  nature  than 
if  I  tried  to  lead  you  step  by  step.  The  best  I  can  do  is  to 
give  you  a  little  counsel,  and  a  helping  hand  now  and  then, 
as  the  occasion  requires." 

"Now  in  truth,  papa,  do  not  all  your  fine  words  signify 
about  what  you  and  mamma  used  to  say  years  ago — lYou 
must  be  a  good  little  girl,  and  then  you  will  be  happy? 
It  seems  to  me  that  many  good  people  are  conventionality 
itself." 

"Many  are,  and  if  they  are  good,  it  is  a  fortunate  phase 
of  conventionality.  For  instance,  I  know  of  a  man  who  by 
the  law  of  heredity  and  the  force  of  circumstances  has 
scarcely  a  bad  habit  or  trait,  and  has  many  good  ones.  He 
meets  the  duties  of  life  in  an  ordinary,  satisfactory  way, 
and  with  little  effort  on  his  part.  I  know  of  another  man 
who  externally  presents  nearly  the  same  aspect  to  society, 
who  is  quiet  and  unobtrusive  in  his  daily  life,  and  yet  he  is 
fighting  hereditary  taint  and  habit  with  a  daily  heroism, 
such  as  no  soldier  in  the  war  can  surpass.  He  is  not  con- 
ventional, although  he  appears  to  be  so.  He  is  a  knight 
who  is  not  afraid  to  face  demons.  Genuine  strength  and 
originality  of  character  do  not  consist  in  saying  or  doing 
things  in  an  unusual  way.  Voluntary  eccentrics  are  even 
worse  than  the  imitators  of  some  model  or  the  careless 
souls  which  take  their  coloring  from  chance  surroundings. 
Conventionality  ceases  when  a  human  being  begins  the  reso- 
lute development  of  his  own  natural  law  of  growth  to  the 
utmost  extent.  This  is  true  because  nature  in  her  higher 
work  is  not  stereotyped.  I  will  now  be  as  definite  as  you 
can  desire.  You,  for  instance,  Marian  Vosburgh,  are  as 
yet,  even  to  yourself,  an  unknown  quantity.  You  scarcely 
know  what  you  are,  much  less  what  you  may  become.  This 
conversation,  and  the  feeling  which  led  to  it,  prove  this. 


A    NEW   FRIEND  41 

There  are  traits  and  possibilities  in  your  nature  due  to 
ancestors  of  whom  you  have  not  even  heard.  These  com- 
bine with  your  own  individual  endowments  by  nature  to 
make  you  a  separate  and  distinct  being,  and  you  grow 
more  separate  and  distinct  by  developing  nature's  gifts, 
traits,  powers— in  brief,  that  which  is  essentially  your  own. 
Thus  nature  becomes  your  ally  and  sees  to  it  with  absolute 
certainty  that  you  are  not  like  other  people.  Following  this 
principle  of  action  you  cannot  know,  nor  can  any  one  know, 
to  just  what  you  may  attain.  All  true  growth  is  from  within, 
outward.  In  the  tree,  natural  law  prevents  distortion  or  ex- 
aggeration of  one  part  over  another.  In  your  case  reason, 
conscience,  good  taste,  must  supervise  and  direct  natural 
impulses.  Thus  following  nature  you  become  natural,  and 
cease  to  be  conventional.  If  you  don't  do  this  you  will  be 
either  conventional  or  queer.     Do  you  understand  me  ?" 

"I  think  I  begin  to.  Let  me  see  if  I  do.  Let  me  apply 
your  words  to  one  definite  problem — How  can  I  be  more 
helpful  and  companionable  to  you?" 

"Why,  Marian,  do  you  not  see  how  infinitely  more  to  me 
you  are  already,  although  scarcely  beyond  the  wish  to  be 
different  from  what  you  were  ?  I  have  talked  to  you  as  a 
man  talks  to  a  woman  in  the  dearest  and  most  unselfish 
relation  of  life.  There  is  one  thing,  however,  you  never 
can  know,  and  that  is  a  father's  love  for  a  daughter:  it  is 
essentially  a  man's  love  and  a  man's  experience.  I  am  sure 
it  is  very  different  from  the  affection  I  should  have  for  a 
son,  did  I  possess  one.  Ever  since  you  were  a  baby  the 
phrase,  'my  little  girl,'  has  meant  more  than  you  can  ever 
know;  and  now  when  you  come  voluntarily  to  my  side  in 
genuine  sympathy,  and  seek  to  enter  intelligently  into  that 
which  makes  my  life,  you  change  everything  for  the  better, 
precisely  as  that  which  was  in  cold,  gray  shadow  before  is 
changed  by  sunlight.  You  add  just  so  much  by  your  young, 
fresh,  womanly  life  to  my  life,  and  it  is  all  the  more  wel- 
come because  it  is  womanly  and  different  from  mine.  You 
cease  to  be  a  child,  a  dependant  to  be  provided  for,  and  be- 


42  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

come  a  friend,  an  inspiration,  a  confidante.  These  relations 
may  count  little  to  heavy,  stolid,  selfish  men,  to  whom  eat- 
ing, drinking,  excitement,  and  money-making  are  the  chief 
considerations,  but  to  men  of  mind  and  ideals,  especially  to 
a  man  who  has  devoted  his  heart,  brain,  and  life  to  a  cause 
upon  which  the  future  of  a  nation  depends,  they  are  pre- 
eminent. You  see  I  am  a  German  at  heart,  and  must  have 
my  world  of  thought  and  imagination,  as  well  as  the  world 
in  which  men  look  at  me  with  cold,  hard,  and  even  hostile 
eyes.  Thus  far  this  ideal  world  has  been  peopled  chiefly 
by  the  shadows  of  those  who  have  lived  in  the  past  or  by 
the  characters  of  the  great  creators  in  poetry.  Now  if  my 
blue-eyed  daughter  can  prove  to  me  that  she  has  too  much 
heart  and  brain  to  be  an  ordinary  society-girl  like  half  a 
million  of  others,  and  will  share  my  interest  in  the  great 
thoughts  and  achievements  of  the  past  and  the  greater  ques- 
tions of  to-day — if  she  can  prove  that  when  I  have  time  I 
may  enjoy  a  tryst  with  her  in  regions  far  remote  from  shal- 
low, coarse,  commonplace  minds — is  not  my  whole  life  en- 
riched ?  We  can  read  some  of  my  favorite  authors  together 
and  trace  their  influence  on  the  thought  of  the  world.  We 
can  take  up  history  and  see  how  to-day's  struggle  is  the 
result  of  the  past.  I  think  I  could  soon  give  you  an  intel- 
ligent idea  of  the  questions  of  the  time,  for  which  men  are 
hourly  dying.  The  line  of  battle  stretches  across  the  con- 
tinent, and  so  many  are  engaged  that  every  few  moments 
a  man,  and  too  often  a  woman  from  heart-break,  dies  that 
the  beloved  cause  may  triumph.  Southern  girls  and  women, 
as  a  rule,  are  far  more  awake  to  the  events  of  the  time  than 
their  sisters  in  the  North.  Such  an  influence  on  the  strug- 
gle can  scarcely  be  over-estimated.  They  create  a  public 
sentiment  that  drives  even  the  cowardly  into  the  ranks, 
and  their  words  and  enthusiasm  incite  brave  young  men  to 
even  chivalric  courage.  It  is  true  that  there  are  very  many 
like  them  in  the  North,  but  there  are  also  very  many  who 
restrain  the  men  over  whom  they  have  influence — who  are  in- 
different, as  you  have  been,  or  in  sympathy  with  the  South 


A    JSEW   FRIEND  43 

— or  who,  as  is  true  in  most  instances,  do  not  yet  see  the  ne- 
cessity for  self-sacrifice.  We  have  not  truly  felt  the  war  yet, 
but  it  will  sooner  or  later  come  home  to  every  one  who  has  a 
heart.  I  have  been  in  the  South,  and  have  studied  the  spirit 
of  the  people.  They  are  just  as  sincere  and  conscientious  as 
we  are,  and  more  in  earnest  as  yet.  Christian  love  and  faith, 
there,  look  to  Heaven  for  sanction  with  absolute  sincerity, 
and  mothers  send  their  sons,  girls  their  lovers,  and  wives 
their  husbands,  to  die  if  need  be.  For  the  political  con- 
spirators who  have  thought  first  and  always  of  their  ambi- 
tion I  have  only  detestation,  but  for  the  people  of  the 
South — for  the  man  I  may  meet  in  the  ranks  and  kill  if 
I  can — I  have  profound  respect.  I  should  know  he  was 
wrong,  I  should  be  equally  sure  that  he  believed  himself 
right. 

"Look  at  the  clock,  my  dear,  and  see  how  long  I  have 
talked  to  you.  Can  you  now  doubt  that  you  will  be  com- 
panionable to  me  ?  Men  down  town  think  I  am  hard  as  a 
rock,  but  your  touch  of  sympathy  as  been  as  potent  as  the 
stroke  of  Moses'  rod.  You  have  had  an  inundation  of 
words,  and  the  future  is  rosy  to  me  with  hope  because  you 
are  not  asleep." 

"Have  I  shown  lack  of  interest,  papa?1' 

"No,  Marian,  your  intent  eyes  have  been  eloquent 
with  feeling.  Therefore  I  have  spoken  so  long  and  fully. 
You  have,  as  it  were,  drawn  the  words  from  me.  You 
have  made  this  outpouring  of  my  heart  seem  as  natural  as 
breathing,  for  when  you  look  as  you  do  to-night,  I  can 
almost  think  aloud  to  you.  You  have  a  sympathetic  face, 
my  child,  and  when  expressing  intelligent  sympathy  it 
grows  beautiful.  It  was  only  pretty  before.  Prettiness  is 
merely  a  thing  of  outline  and  color;  beauty  comes  from 
the  soul." 

She  came  and  stood  at  his  side,  resting  her  arm  lightly 
on  his  shoulder. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  "your  words  are  a  revelation  to  me. 
Your  world  is  indeed  a  new  one,  and  a  better  one  than 


44  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

mine.  But  I  must  cease  to  be  a  girl,  and  become  a  woman, 
to  enter  it." 

"You  need  not  be  less  happy;  you  do  not  lose  anything. 
A  picture  is  ever  finer  for  shadows  and  depth  of  perspective. 
You  can't  get  anything  very  fine,  in  either  art  or  life,  from 
mere  bright  surface  glare." 

"I  can't  go  back  to  that  any  more;  something  in  my  very 
soul  tells  me  that  I  cannot;  and  your  loneliness  and  danger 
would  render  even  the  wish  to  do  so  base.  No,  I  feel  now 
that  I  would  rather  be  a  woman,  even  though  it  involves 
a  crown  of  thorns,  than  to  be  a  shallow  creature  that  my 
own  heart  would  despise.  I  may  never  be  either  wise  or 
deep,  but  I  shall  be  to  you  all  I  can. ' ' 

"You  do  very  much  for  me  in  those  words  alone,  my 
darling.  As  I  said  before,  no  one  can  tell  what  you  may 
become  if  you  develop  your  own  nature  naturalljo" 


WOMAN'S    CHIEF   RIGHT  45 


CHAPTER  IV 

woman's  chief  right 

IT  was  late  when  Marian  and  her  father  parted^  and  each 
felt  that  a  new  era  had  begun  in  their  lives.  To  the 
former  it  was  like  a  deep  religions  experience.  She 
was  awed  and  somewhat  depressed,  as  well  as  resolute  and 
earnest.  Life  was  no  pleasure  excursion  to  her  father. 
Questions  involving  the  solemnity  of  danger,  possibly 
death,  occupied  his  mind.  Yet  it  was  not  of  either  that 
he  thought,  but  of  the  questions  themselves.  She  saw 
that  he  was  a  large-hearted,  large-brained  man,  who  en- 
tered into  the  best  spirit  of  his  age,  and  found  recreation 
in  the  best  thought  of  the  past,  and  she  felt  that  she  was 
still  but  a  little  child  beside  him. 

"But  I  shall  no  longer  be  a  silly  child  or  a  shallow,  self- 
ish, unfeeling  girl.  I  know  there  is  something  better  in 
my  nature  than  this.  Papa's  words  confirm  what  I  have 
read  but  never  thought  of  much:  the  chief  need  of  men 
who  can  do  much  or  who  amount  to  much  is  the  intelligent 
sympathy  of  women  who  understand  and  care  for  them. 
Why,  it  was  the  inspiration  of  chivalry,  even  in  the  dark 
ages.  Well,  Marian  Vosburgh,  if  you  can't  excel  a  kitchen- 
maid,  it  would  be  better  that  you  had  never  lived." 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  when  she  wakened  on  the 
following  morning,  and  when  she  came  to  breakfast  their 
domestic  handed  her  a  note  from  her  father,  by  which  she 
was  informed  that  he  would  dine  with  her  earlier  than 
usual,  and  that  they  would  take  a  sail  down  the  bay. 

Brief  as  it  was,  it  breathed  an  almost  lover-like  fondness 


46  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

and  happiness.  She  enjoyed  her  first  exultant  thrill  at  her 
sense  of  power  as  she  comprehended  that  he  had  gone  to 
his  work  that  day  a  stronger  and  more  hopeful  man. 

She  went  out  to  do  her  shopping,  and  was  soon  in  a 
Broadway  temple  of  fashion,  but  found  that  she  was  no 
longer  a  worshipper.  A  week  before  the  beautiful  fabrics 
would  have  absorbed  her  mind  and  awakened  intense  de- 
sires, for  she  had  a  passion  for  dress,  and  few  knew  how  to 
make  more  of  it  than  she.  But  a  new  and  stronger  passion 
was  awakening.  She  was  made  to  feel  at  last  that  she  had 
not  only  a  woman's  lovely  form  and  features,  but  a  woman's 
mind.  Now  she  began  to  dream  of  triumphs  through  the 
latter,  and  her  growing  thought  was  how  to  achieve  them. 
Not  that  she  was  indifferent  to  her  costume;  it  should  be 
like  the  soldier's  accoutrements;  her  mind  the  weapon. 

As  is  common  with  the  young  to  whom  any  great  im- 
pulse or  new,  deep  experience  comes,  she  was  absorbed  by 
it,  and  could  think  of  little  else.  She  went  over  her  father's 
words  again  and  again,  dwelling  on  the  last  utterance,  which 
had  contained  the  truth  uppermost  in  all  that  he  had  said — 
"Develop  the  best  in  your  own  nature  naturally." 

What  was  her  own  nature,  her  starting-point?  Her  in- 
trospection was  not  very  reassuring.  She  felt  that  perhaps 
the  most  hopeful  indication  was  her  strong  rebound  from 
what  she  at  last  recognized  as  mean  and  unworthy.  She 
also  had  a  little  natural  curiosity  and  vanity  to  see  if  her 
face  was  changing  with  changing  motives.  Was  there  such 
a  difference  between  prettiness  and  beauty  ?  She  was  per- 
fectly sure  she  would  rather  be  beautiful  than  pretty. 

Her  mirror  revealed  a  perplexed  young  face,  suggesting 
interrogation-points.  The  day  was  ending  as  it  had  begun, 
with  a  dissatisfaction  as  to  the  past,  amounting  almost  to 
disgust,  and  with  fears,  queries,  and  uncertainties  concern- 
ing the  future.  How  should  she  take  up  life  again  ?  How 
should  she  go  on  with  it  ? 

More  importunate  still  was  the  question,  "What  has  the 
future  in  store  for  me  and  for  those  I  love  ?     Papa  spoke  of 


WOMAN'S    CHIEF   RIGHT  47 

danger;  and  when  I  think  of  his  resolute  face,  I  know  that 
nothing  in  the  line  of  duty  will  daunt  him.  He  said  that  it 
might  not  be  kindness  to  leave  me  in  my  old,  blind,  unthink- 
ing ignorance — that  a  blow,  shattering  everything,  might 
come,  finding  us  all  unprepared.  Oh,  why  don't  mamma 
feel  and  see  more  ?  We  have  been  just  like  comfortable 
passengers  oq  a  ship,  while  papa  was  facing  we  knew  not 
what.  I  may  not  be  of  much  use,  but  I  feel  now  as  if  I 
wanted  to  be  with  him.  To  stay  below  with  scarcely  any 
other  motive  than  to  have  a  good  time,  and  then  to  be  par- 
alyzed, helpless,  when  some  shock  of  trouble  comes,  now 
seems  silly  and  weak  to  the  last  degree.  I  am  only  too 
glad  that  I  came  to  my  senses  in  time,  for  if  anything 
should  happen  to  papa,  and  I  had  to  remember  all  my 
days  that  I  had  never  been  much  to  him,  and  had  left 
him  to  meet  the  stress  of  life  and  danger  alone,  I  am  sure 
I  should  be  wretched  from  self-reproach." 

When  he  came  at  six  o'clock,  she  met  him  eagerly,  and 
almost  her  first  words  were,  "Papa,  there  hasn't  been  any 
danger  to-day  ?" 

"Oh,  no;  none  at  all;  only  humdrum  work.  You  must 
not  anticipate  trouble.  Soldiers,  you  know,  jest  and  laugh 
even  when  going  into  battle,  and  they  are  all  the  better  sol- 
diers for  the  fact.  No;  I  have  given  you  a  wrong  impres- 
sion. Nothing  has  been  humdrum  to-day.  An  acquaint- 
ance down  town  said:  'What's  up,  Yosburgh  ?  Heard  good 
news?  Have  our  troops  scored  a  point?'  You  see  I  was 
so  brightened  up  that  he  thought  nothing  but  a  national 
victory  could  account  for  the  improvement.  Men  are  like 
armies,  and  are  twice  as  effective  when  well  supported." 

14 The  idea  of  my  supporting  you!" 

"Tome  it's  a  charming  idea.  Instead  of  coming  back 
to  a  dismal,  empty  house,  I  find  a  blue-eyed  lassie  who  will 
go  with  me  to  dinner,  and  add  sauce  piquante  to  every  dish. 
Come,  I  am  not  such  a  dull,  grave  old  fellow  as  you  imag- 
ine. You  shall  see  how  gallant  I  can  become  under  provo- 
cation.    We  must  make  the  most  of  a  couple  of  hours,  for 


48  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

that  is  all  that  I  can  give  you.  No  sail  to-night,  as  I  had 
planned,  for  a  government  agent  is  coming  on  from  Wash- 
ington to  see  me,  and  I  must  be  absent  for  at  least  an  hour 
or  two  after  eight  o'clock.  You  won't  mope,  will  you? 
You  have  something  to  read  ?  Has  the  day  been  very 
long  and  lonely  ?  What  have  you  been  doing  and  think- 
ing about?" 

"When  are  you  going  to  give  me  a  chance  to  answer?" 

"Oh,  I  read  your  answer,  partly  at  least,  in  your  eyes. 
You  can  amplify  later.  Come,  get  ready  for  the  street. 
Put  on  what  you  please,  so  that  you  wear  a  smile.  These 
are  not  times  to  worry  over  slight  reverses  as  long  as  the 
vital  points  are  safe." 

The  hour  they  passed  at  dinner  gave  Marian  a  new  reve- 
lation of  her  father.  The  quiet  man  proved  true  the  words 
of  Emerson,  "Among  those  who  enjoy  his  thought,  he  will 
regain  his  tongue." 

At  first  he  drew  her  out  a  little,  and  with  his  keen,  quick 
insight  he  understood  her  perplexity,  her  solicitude  about 
him  and  herself  and  the  futrre,  her  resolute  purpose  to  be  a 
woman,  and  the  difficulties  of  seeing  the  way  to  the  changes 
she  desired.  Instead  of  replying  directly  to  her  words,  he 
skilfully  led  their  talk  to  the  events  of  the  day,  and  contem- 
poraneous history  became  romance  under  his  version;  the 
actors  in  the  passing  drama  ceased  to  be  names  and  officials, 
and  were  invested  with  human  interest.  .  She  was  made  to 
see  their  motives,  their  hopes,  fears,  ambitions;  she  opened 
her  eyes  in  surprise  at  his  knowledge  of  prominent  people, 
their  social  status,  relations,  and  family  connection.  A 
genial  light  of  human  interest  played  over  most  of  his 
words,  yet  now  and  then  they  touched  on  the  depths  of 
tragedy;  again  he  seemed  to  be  indulging  in  sublimated 
gossip,  and  she  saw  the  men  and  women  who  posed  before 
the  public  in  their  high  stations  revealed  in  their  actual 
daily  life. 

She  became  so  interested  that  at  times  she  left  her  food 
untasted.     "How  can  you  know  all  this?"  she  exclaimed. 


WOMAN'S    CHIEF   RIGHT  49 

'kIt  is  my  business  to  know  a  great  deal,"  he  replied. 
4 'Then  natural  curiosity  leads  me  to  learn  more.  The 
people  of  whom  I  have  spoken  are  the  animated  pieces  on 
the  chess-board.  In  the  tremendous  game  that  we  are  play- 
ing, success  depends  largely  on  their  strength,  weakness, 
various  traits — in  brief,  their  character.  The  stake  that  i 
have  in  the  game  leads  me  to  know  and  watch  those  who 
are  exerting  a  positive  influence.  It  is  interesting  to  study 
the  men  and  women  who,  in  any  period,  made  and  shaped 
history,  and  to  learn  the  secrets  of  their  success  and  failure. 
Is  it  not  natural  that  men  and  women  who  are  making  his- 
tory to-day — who  in  fact  are  shaping  one's  own  history — 
should  be  objects  of  stronger  attention?  Mow,  as  in  the 
past,  women  exert  a  far  greater  influence  on  current  events 
than  you  would  imagine.  There  are  but  few  thrones  of 
power  behind  which  you  will  not  rind  a  woman.  What  I 
shall  do  or  be  during  the  coming  weeks  and  months  de- 
pends upon  some  of  the  people  I  haye  sketched,  free- 
handed, for  you  alone.  You  see  the  sphinx — for  as  such 
1  am  regarded  by  many — opens  his  mouth  freely  to  you. 
Can  you  guess  some  of  my  motives  for  this  kind  of  talk?" 

41  You  have  wanted  to  entertain  me,  papa,  and  you  have 
succeeded.  You  should  write  romances,  for  you  but  touch 
the  names  one  sees  in  the  papers  and  they  become  dramatic 
actors." 

k'I  did  want  to  entertain  you  and  make  a  fair  return  for 
your  society;  I  wish  to  prove  that  I  can  be  your  companion 
as  truly  as  you  can  become  mine;  but  I  have  aimed  to  do 
more.  I  wish  you  to  realize  how  interesting  the  larger  and 
higher  world  of  activity  is.  Do  not  imagine  that  in  becom- 
ing a  woman,  earnest  and  thoughtful,  you  are  entering  on 
an  era  of  solemn  platitudes.  You  are  rather  passing  from  a 
theatre  of  light  comedy  to  a  stage  from  which  Shakespeare 
borrowed  the  whole  gamut  of  human  feeling,  passion,  and 
experience.  I  also  wished  to  satisfy  you  that  you  hav* 
mind  enough  to  become  absorbed  as  soon  as  you  begin  to 
understand  the  significance  of  the  play.     After  you  have 

roe— VI— 3 


50  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

once  become  an  intelligent  spectator  of  real  life  you  can  no 
more  go  back  to  drawing-room  chit-chat,  gossip,  and  flirta- 
tion than  you  can  lay  down  Shakespeare's  'Tempest'  for  a 
weak  little  parlor  comedy.  I  am  too  shrewd  a  man,  Mar- 
ian, to  try  to  disengage  you  from  the  past  by  exhortations 
and  homilies;  and  now  that  you  have  become  my  friend,  I 
shall  be  too  sincere  with  you  to  disguise  my  purposes  or 
methods.  I  propose  to  co-operate  frankly  with  you  in 
your  effort,  for  in  this  way  I  prove  my  faith  in  you  and 
my  respect  for  you.  Soon  you  will  find  yourself  an  actor 
in  real  life,  as  well  as  a  spectator." 

4iI  fear  I  have  been  one  already— a  sorry  one,  too.  It  is 
possible  to  do  mischief  without  being  very  intelligent  or  de- 
liberate. You  are  making  my  future,  so  far  as  you  are  con- 
cerned, clearer  than  I  imagined  it  could  be.  You  do  inter- 
est me  deeply.  In  one  evening  you  make  it  evident  how 
much  I  have  lost  in  neglecting  you— for  I  have  neglected 
you,  though  not  intentionally.  Hereafter  I  shall  be  only 
too  proud  if  you  will  talk  to  me  as  you  have  done,  giving 
me  glimpses  of  your  thoughts,  your  work,  and  especially 
your  dangers,  where  there  are  any.  Never  deceive  me  in 
this  respect,  or  leave  me  in  ignorance.  Whatever  may  be 
the  weaknesses  of  my  nature,  now  that  I  have  waked  up,  I 
am  too  proud  a  girl  to  receive  all  that  I  do  from  your  hands 
and  then  give  almost  my  whole  life  and  thought  to  others. 
I  shall  be  too  delighted  if  you  are  happier  for  my  meddling 
and  dropping  down  upon  you.  I'll  keep  your  secrets  too, 
you  see;"  and  she  confirmed  her  words  by  an  emphatic 
little  nod.  "You  can  talk  to  me  about  people,  big  and 
little,  with  whom  you  have  to  do,  just  as  serenely  as  if 
you  were  giving  your  confidence  to  an  oyster. 

"But,  papa,  I  am  confronted  by  a  question  of  real  life, 
just  as  difficult  for  me  as  any  that  can  perplex  you.  I  can't 
treat  this  question  any  more  as  I  have  done.  I  don't  see  my 
way  at  all.  Now  I  am  going  to  be  as  direct  and  straightfor- 
ward as  a  man,  and  not  beat  around  the  bush  with  any  wo- 
m&msh  finesse.     There  is  a  gentleman  in  this  city  who,  if  he 


-      WOMAN'S    CHIEF   RIGHT  51 

knew  I  was  in  town  to-night,  would  call,  and  I  might  not  be 
able  to  prevent  him  from  making  a  formal  proposal.  He  is 
a  man  whom  I  respect  and  like  very  much,  and  I  fear  I  have 
been  too  encouraging — not  intentionally  and  deliberately  you 
know,  but  thoughtlessly.  He  was  the  cleverest  and  the  most 
entertaining  of  my  friends,  and  always  brought  a  breezy  kind 
of  excitement  with  him.  Don't  you  see,  papa?  That  is 
what  I  lived  for,  pleasure  and  excitement,  and  I  don't  be- 
lieve that  anything  can  be  so  exciting  to  a  girl  as  to  see  a 
man  yielding  to  her  fascinations,  whatever  they  may  be. 
It  gives  one  a  delicious  sense  of  power.  I  shall  be  frank, 
too.  I  must  be,  for  I  want  your  advice.  Yon  men.  like 
power.  History  is  full  of  the  records  of  those  who  sold 
their  own  souls  for  it,  and  walked  through  blood  and  crime 
to  reach  it.  I  think  it  is  just  as  natural  for  a  woman  to  love 
power  also,  only  now  I  see  that  it  is  a  cruel  and  vile  thing 
to  get  it  and  use  it  merely  for  amusement.  To  me  it  was 
excitement.  I  don't  like  to  think  how  it  may  all  end  to  a 
man  like  Fenton  Lane,  and  I  am  so  remorseful  that  I  am  half 
inclined  to  sacrifice  myself  and  make  him  as  good  a  wife  as 
I  can." 

"Do  you  love  him?" 

"No.  I  don't  think  I  know  what  love  is.  When  a  mere 
girl  I  had  a  foolish  little  flame  that  went  out  with  the  first 
breath  of  ridicule.  Since  that  time  I  have  enjoyed  gentle- 
men's society  as  naturally  as  any  other  girl  of  our  set,  per- 
haps more  keenly.  Their  talk  and  ways  are  so  different 
from  those  of  girls!  Then  my  love  of  power  came  in,  you 
see.  The  other  girls  were  always  talking  about  their  friends 
and  followers,  and  it  was  my  pride  to  surpass  them  all.  I 
liked  one  better  than  another,  of  course,  but  was  always  as 
ready  for  a  new  conquest  as  that  old  fool,  'Alexander  the 
Little,'  who  ran  over  the  world  and  especially  himself. 
What  do  you  think,  papa  ?  Shall  I  ever  see  one  who  will 
make  all  the  others  appear  as  nothing?  Or,  would  it  be 
nobler  to  devote  myself  to  a  true,  fine  man,  like  Mr.  Lane, 
no  matter  how  I  felt  ?" 


52  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"God  forbid !  You  had  better  stay  at  your  mother's  side 
till  you  are  as  old  and  wrinkled  as  Time  himself." 

"I  am  honestly  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  But  what  am 
I  to  do  ?  Sooner  or  later  I  shall  have  to  refuse  Mr.  Lane, 
and  others  too." 

"Refuse  them,  then.  He  would  be  less  than  a  man  who 
would  ask  a  girl  to  sacrifice  herself  for  him.  No,  my  dear, 
the  most  inalienable  right  of  your  womanhood  is  to  love 
freely  and  give  yourself  where  you  love.  This  right  is  one 
of  the  issues  of  this  war— that  the  poorest  woman  in  this 
land  may  choose  her  own  mate.  Slavery  is  the  corner-stone 
of  the  Confederacy,  wherein  millions  of  women  can  be  given 
according  to  the  will  of  masters.  Should  the  South  tri- 
umph, phases  of  the  Old- World  despotism  would  creep 
in  with  certainty,  and  in  the  end  we  should  have  alliances, 
not  marriages,  as  is  the  case  so  generally  abroad.  Now  if  a 
white  American  girl  does  not  make  her  own  choice  she  is 
a  weak  fool.  The  law  and  public  sentiment  protect  her. 
If  she  will  not  choose  wisely,  she  must  suffer  the  conse- 
quences, and  only  under  the  impulse  of  love  can  a  true 
choice  be  made.  A  girl  must  be  sadly  deficient  in  sense 
if  she  loves  a  weak,  bad,  disreputable  man,  or  a  vulgar, 
ignorant  one.  Such  mesalliances  are  more  in  seeming  than 
in  reality,  for  the  girl  herself  is  usually  near  in  nature  to 
what  she  chooses.  There  are  few  things  that  I  would  more 
earnestly  guard  you  against  than  a  loveless  marriage.  You 
would  probably  miss  the  sweetest  happiness  of  life,  and  you 
would  scarcely  escape  one  of  its  worst  miseries. ' ' 

"That  settles  it,  then.  I  am  going  to  choose  for  myself 
— to  stay  with  you  and  mamma,  and  to  continue  sending 
you  my  bills  indefinitely." 

"They  will  be  love  letters,  now." 

"Very  dear  ones,  you  will  think  sometimes.  But  truly, 
papa,  you  must  not  let  me  spend  more  than  you  can  afford. 
You  should  be  frank  on  this  point  also,  when  you  know  I 
do  not  wish  to  be  inconsiderate.  The  question  still  remains, 
What  am  I  to  do  with  Mr.  Lane  ?" 


WOMAN'S   CHIEF   RIGHT  53 

"Now  I  shall  throw  you  on  your  own  resources.  I  be- 
lieve your  woman's  tact  can  manage  this  question  better 
than  my  reason;  only,  if  you  don't  love  him  and  do  not 
think  you  can,  be  sure  to  refuse  him.  I  have  nothing 
against  Mr.  Lane,  and  approve  of  what  I  know  about  him; 
but  I  am  not  eager  to  have  a  rival,  or  to  lose  what  I  have 
so  recently  gained.  Nevertheless,  I  know  that  when  the 
true  knight  comes  through  the  wood,  my  sleeping  beauty 
will  have  another  awakening,  compared  with  which  this  one 
will  seem  slight  indeed.  Then,  as  a  matter  of  course,  I  will 
quietly  take  my  place  as  'second  fiddle'  in  the  harmony  of 
your  life.  But  no  discordant  first  fiddle,  if  you  please;  and 
love  alone  can  attune  its  strings.  My  time  is  up,  and,  if 
I  don't  return  early,  go  to  bed,  so  that  mamma  may  not 
say  you  are  the  worse  for  your  days  in  town.  This  visit 
has  made  we  wish  for  many  others." 

"You  shall  have  them,  for,  as  Shakespeare  says,  your 
wish  'jumps'  with  mine." 


64  ^IJV    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER  V 

"BE    HOPEFUL,  THAT   I    MAY    HOPE" 

LEFT  to  herself  Marian  soon  threw  down  the  book  she 
tried  to  read,  and  thought  grew  busy  with  her  fa- 
ther's later  words.  Was  there  then  a  knight — a  man 
— somewhere  in  the  world,  so  unknown  to  her  that  she 
would  pass  him  in  the  street  without  the  slightest  premo- 
nition that  he  was  the  arbiter  of  her  destiny  ?  Was  there 
some  ODe,  to  whom  imagination  could  scarcely  give  shadowy 
outline,  so  real  and  strong  that  he  could  look  a  new  life  into 
her  soul,  set  all  her  nerves  tingling,  and  her  blood  coursing 
in  mad  torrents  through  her  veins?  Was  there  a  stranger, 
whom  now  she  would  sweep  with  a  casual  glance,  who  still 
had  the  power  to  subdue  her  proud  maidenhood,  overcome 
the  reserve  which  seemed  to  reach  as  high  as  heaven,  and 
lay  a  gentle  yet  resistless  grasp,  not  only  on  her  sacred 
form,  but  on  her  very  soul  ?  Even  the  thought  made  her 
tremble  with  a  vague  yet  delicious  dread.  Then  she  sprang 
to  her  feet  and  threw  back  her  head  proudly  as  she  uttered 
aloud  the  words,  "If  this  can  ever  be  true,  my  power  shall 
be  equal  to  His." 

A  moment  later  she  was  evoking  half-exultant  chords 
from  the  piano.  These  soon  grew  low  and  dreamy,  and  the 
girl  said  softly  to  herself:  "I  have  lived  more  in  two  days 
than  in  months  of  the  past.  Truly  real  life  is  better  than 
a  sham,  shallow  existence." 

The  door-bell  rang,  and  she  started  to  her  feet.  "Who 
can  know  I  am  in  town  ?' '  she  queried. 

Fenton  Lane  entered  with  extended  hand  and  the  words: 


"BE    HOPEFUL,    THAT   I   MAY   HOPE"  55 

"I  was  passing  and  knew  I  could  not  be  mistaken  in  your 
touch.  Your  presence  was  revealed  by  the  music  as  unmis- 
takably as  if  I  had  met  you  on  the  street.  Am  I  an  intrud- 
er?    Please  don't  order  me  away  under  an  hour  or  two." 

"Indeed,  Mr.  Lane,  truth  compels  me  to  say  that  I  am 
here  in  deep  retirement  I  have  been  contemplating  a 
convent." 

"May  I  ask  your  motive  ?" 

"To  repent  of  my  sins." 

"You  would  have  to  confess  at  a  convent.  Why  not 
imagine  me  a  venerable  father,  dozing  after  a  good  dinner, 
and  make  your  first  essay  at  the  confessional  ?' ' 

"You  tax  my  imagination  too  greatly.  So  I  should 
have  to  confess;  therefore  no  convent  for  me." 

"Of  course  not.  I  should  protest  against  it  at  the  very 
altar,  and  in  the  teeth  of  the  Pope  himself.  Can't  you  re- 
pent of  your  sins  in  some  other  way  ?" 

"I  suppose  I  shall  have  to." 

"They  would  be  a  queer  lot  of  little  peccadilloes.  I 
should  like  to  set  them  all  under  a  microscope. ' ' 

"I  would  rather  that  your  glass  should  be  a  goblet 
brimmed  from  Lethe." 

"There  is  no  Lethe  forme,  Miss  Marian,  so  far  as  you 
are  concerned." 

4  4  Come,  tell  me  the  news  from  the  seat  of  war, ' '  she  said, 
abruptly. 

"This  luxurious  arm-chair  is  not  a  seat  of  war." 

"Papa  has  been  telling  me  how  Southern  girls  make  all 
the  men  enlist." 

"I'll  enlist  to-morrow,  if  you  ask  rrz  to." 

"Oh,  no.  You  might  be  shot,  and  then  you  would 
haunt  me  all  my  life." 

"May  I  not  haunt  you  anyway  ?"  said  Lane,  resolutely, 
for  he  had  determined  not  to  let  this  opportunity  pass.  She 
was  alone,  and  he  would  confirm  the  hope  which  her  manner 
for  months  had  inspired.  "Come,  Miss  Marian,"  he  contin- 
ued, springing  to  his  feet  and  approaching  her  side,  his  dark 


56  AN    ORIGINAL   BELLE 

eyes  full  of  fire  and  entreaty;  "you  cannot  have  misunder- 
stood rne.  You  know  that  while  not  a  soldier  I  am  also  not 
a  carpet-knight  and  have  not  idled  in  ladies1  bowers.  I 
have  worked  hard  and  dreamed  of  you.  I  am  willing  to  do 
all  that  a  man  can  to  win  you.  Cowardice  has  not  kept  me 
from  the  war,  but  you.  If  it  would  please  you  I  would  put 
on  the  blue  and  shoulder  a  musket  to-morrow.  If  you  will 
permit  more  discretion  and  time,  I  can  soon  obtain  a  com- 
mission as  an  officer.  But  before  I  fight  other  battles, 
I  wish  to  win  the  supreme  victory  of  my  life.  Whatever 
orders  I  may  take  from  others,  you  shall  ever  be  my  supe- 
rior officer.  You  have  seen  this  a  long  time;  a  woman  of 
your  mind  could  not  help  it.  I  have  tried  to  hope  with  all 
a  lover's  fondness  that  you  gave  me  glimpses  of  your  heart 
also,  but  of  this  nothing  would  satisfy  a  man  of  my  nature 
but  absolute  assurance." 

He  stood  proudly  yet  humbly  before  her,  speaking  with 
strong,  impassioned,  fluent  utterance,  for  he  was  a  man  who 
had  both  the  power  and  the  habit  of  expression. 

She  listened  with  something  like  dismay.  Her  heart, 
instead  of  kindling,  grew  only  more  heavy  and  remorseful. 
Her  whole  nature  shrank,  while  pity  and  compunction 
wrung  tears  from  her  eyes.  This  was  real  life  in  very 
truth.  Here  was  a  man  ready  to  give  up  safe,  luxurious 
existence,  a  career  already  successful,  and  face  death  for 
her.  She  knew  him  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  if  he  could 
wear  her  colors  he  would  march  away  with  the  first  regiment 
that  would  receive  him.  He  was  not  a  man  to  be  influenced 
by  little  things,  but  yielded  absolutely  to  the  supreme  im- 
pulses of  his  life.  If  she  said  the  word,  he  would  make 
good  his  promise  with  chivalrous,  straightforward  prompt- 
ness, facing  death,  and  all  that  death  could  then  mean  to 
him,  with  a  light,  half- jaunty  courage  characteristic  of  the 
ideal  soldier.  She  had  a  secret  wonder  at  herself  that  she 
could  know  all  this  and  yet  be  so  vividly  conscious  that 
what  he  asked  could  never  be.  Her  womanly  pity  said  yes; 
her  woman's  heart  said  no.    He  was  eager  to  take  her  in  his 


"BE   HOPEFUL,    THAT   I   MAY   HOPE"  57 

arms,  to  place  the  kiss  of  life-long  loyalty  on  her  lips;  but 
in  her  very  soul  she  felt  that  it  would  be  almost  sacrilege 
for  him  to  touch  her;  since  the  divine  impulse  to  yield, 
without  which  there  can  be  no  divine  sanction,  was  absent 

She  listened,  not  as  a  confused,  frightened  girl,  while  he 
spoke  that  which  she  had  guessed  before.  Other  men  had 
sued,  although  none  had  spoken  so  eloquently  or  backed 
their  words  by  such  weight  of  character.  Her  trouble,  her 
deep  perplexity,  was  not  due  to  a  mere  declaration,  but  was 
caused  by  her  inability  to  answer  him.  The  conventional 
words  which  she  would  have  spoken  a  few  days  before  died 
on  her  lips.  They  would  be  an  insult  to  this  earnest  man, 
who  had  the  right  to  hope  for  something  better.  What 
was  scarcely  worse — for  there  are  few  emergencies  in  which 
egotism  is  wholly  lost — she  would  appear  at  once  to  him 
and  to  herself  in  an  odious  light.  Her  course  would  be  well 
characterized  by  the  Irish  servant's  lover,  for  here  was  a 
man  who  from  the  very  fineness  of  his  nature,  if  wronged, 
might  easily  go  to  the  devil. 

His  words  echoed  her  thought,  for  her  hesitation  and  the 
visible  distress  on  her  face  led  him  to  exclaim,  in  a  voice 
tense  with  something  like  agony:  "Oh,  Marian,  since  you 
hesitate,  hesitate  longer.  Think  well  before  your  mar — 
nay,  spoil — my  life.  For  God's  sake  don't  put  me  off  with 
some  of  the  sham  conventionalities  current  with  society 
girls.  I  could  stand  anything  better  than  that.  I  am  in 
earnest;  I  have  always  been  in  earnest;  and  I  saw  from 
the  first,  through  all  your  light,  graceful  disguises,  that 
you  were  not  a  shallow,  brainless,  heartless  creature — that 
a  noble  woman  was  waiting  to  be  wakened  in  you  nature. 
Give  me  time;  give  yourself  time.  This  is  not  a  little  affair 
that  can  be  rounded  off  according  to  the  present  code  of 
etiquette;  it  is  a  matter  of  life  or  death  to  me.  Be  more 
merciful  than  a  rebel  bullet." 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobbed  helplessly. 

He  was  capable  of  feeling  unknown  depths  of  tenderness, 
but  there  was  little  softness  in  his  nature.     As  he  looked 


58  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

down  upon  her,  his  face  grew  rigid  and  stern.  In  her  sobs 
he  read  his  answer — the  unwillingness,  probably  the  inabil- 
ity, of  her  heart  to  respond  to  his — and  he  grew  bitter  as 
he  thought  of  the  past. 

With  the  cold,  quiet  tones  of  one  too  strong,  controlled, 
and  well-bred  to  give  way  violently  to  his  intense  anger, 
he  said:  "This  is  a  different  result  from  what  you  led  me 
to  expect.  All  your  smiles  end  in  these  unavailing  tears. 
Why  did  you  smile  so  sweetly  after  you  understood  me, 
since  you  had  nothing  better  in  store  ?  I  was  giving  you 
the  homage,  the  choice'  of  my  whole  manhood,  and  you 
knew  it.  WThat  were  you  giving  me  ?  Why  did  your  eyes 
draw  out  my  heart  and  soul?  Do  you  think  that  such  a 
man  as  I  can  exist  without  heart  and  soul  ?  Did  you  class 
me  with  Strahan,  who  can  take  a  refusal  as  he  would  lose 
a  game  of  whist?  -Xo,  you  did  not.  I  saw  in  your  very 
eyes  a  true  estimate  of  Strahan  and  all  his  kind.  Was  it 
your  purpose  to  win  a  genuine  triumph  over  a  man  who 
cared  nothing  for  other  women  ?  Why  then  don't  you  en- 
joy it?     You  could  not  ask  for  anything  more  complete." 

il  Trample  on  me — I  deserve  it,"  she  faltered. 

After  a  moment's  pause,  he  resumed:  llI  have  no  wish 
to  trample  on  you.  I  came  here  with  as  much  loyalty  and 
homage  as  ever  a  man  brought  to  a  woman  in  any  age. 
I  have  offered  you  any  test  of  my  love  and  truth  that  you 
might  ask.  What  more  could  a  man  do?  As  soon  as  I 
knew  what  you  were  to  me,  I  sought  your  father's  per- 
mission to  win  you,  and  I  told  }-ou  my  secret  in  every  tone 
and  glance.  If  your  whole  nature  shrank  from  me,  as  I  see 
it  does,  you  could  have  told  me  the  truth  months  since,  and 
I  should  have  gone  away  honoring  you  as  a  true-hearted, 
honest  girl,  who  would  scorn  the  thought  of  deceiving  and 
misleading  an  earnest  man.  You  knew  I  did  not  belong  to 
the  male-flirt  genus.  When  a  man  from  some  secret  im- 
pulse of  his  nature  would  give  his  very  life  to  make  a 
woman  happy,  is  it  too  much  to  ask  that  she  should  not 
deliberately,  and  for  mere  amusement,  wreck  his  life?    If 


"BE    HOPEFUL,    THAT   I   MAY    HOPE"  59 

she  does  not  want  his  priceless  gift,  a  woman  with  your  tact 
could  have  revealed  the  truth  by  one  glance,  by  one  inflec- 
tion of  a  tone.  Not  that  I  should  have  been  discouraged  so 
easily,  but  I  should  have  accepted  an  unspoken  negative 
long  since  with  absolute  respect.  But  now — "  and  he  made 
a  gesture  eloquent  with  protest  and  despair. 

"But  now,"  she  said,  wearily,  "I  see  it  all  in  the  light 
in  which  you  put  it.  Be  content;  you  have  spoiled  my  life 
as  truly  as  I  have  yours.  " 

"Yes,  for  this  evening.  There  will  be  only  one  less  in 
your  drawing-room  when  you  return." 

"Very  well,"  she  replied,  quietly.  Her  eyes  were  dry 
and  hot  now,  and  he  could  almost  see  the  dark  lines  deep- 
ening under  them,  and  the  increasing  pallor  of  her  face. 
"I  have  only  this  to  say.  I  now  feel  that  your  words  are 
like  blows,  and  they  are  given  to  one  who  is  not  resisting, 
who  is  prostrate;"  and  she  rose  as  if  to  indicate  that  their 
interview  should  end. 

He  looked  at  her  uneasily  as  she  stood  before  him,  with 
her  pallid  face  averted,  and  every  line  of  her  drooping  form 
suggesting  defeat  rather  than  triumph;  yes,  far  more  than 
defeat — the  apathetic  hopelessness  of  one  who  feels  himself 
mortally  wounded. 

"Will  you  please  tell  me  just  what  you  mean  when  you 
say  I  have  spoiled  your  life  ?"  he  asked. 

"How  should  I  know?  How  should  any  one  know  till 
he  has  lived  out  its  bitterness  ?  What  do  you  mean  by  the 
words  ?  Perhaps  you  will  remember  hereafter  that  your 
language  has  been  inconsistent  as  well  as  merciless.  You 
said  I  was  neither  brainless  nor  heartless;  then  added  that 
you  had  spoiled  my  life  merely  for  one  evening.  But  there 
is  no  use  in  trying  to  defend  myself:  I  should  have  little  to 
urge  except  thoughtlessness,  custom,  the  absence  of  evil  in- 
tention—other words  should  prove  myself  a  fool,  to  avoid 
being  a  criminal.  Go  on  and  spoil  your  life;  you  seem  to 
be  wholly  bent  upon  it.  Face  rebel  bullets  or  do  some  other 
reckless  thing.    I  only  wish  to  give  you  the  solace  of  know- 


60  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ing  that  you  have  made  me  as  miserable  as  a  girl  can  be, 
and  that  too  at  a  moment  when  I  was  awakening  to  better 
things.  But  I  am  wasting  your  valuable  time.  You  be- 
lieve in  your  heart  that  Mr.  Strahan  can  console  me  with 
his  gossip  to-morrow  evening,  whatever  happens." 

"Great  God!  what  am  I  to  believe?" 

She  turned  slowly  toward  him  and  said,  gravely:  "Do 
not  use  that  name,  Mr.  Lane.  He  recognizes  the  possibility 
of  good  in  the  weakest  and  most  unworthy  of  His  creatures. 
He  never  denounces  those  who  admit  their  sin  and  would 
turn  from  it." 

He  sprang  to  her  side  and  took  her  hand.  "Look  at 
me,"  he  pleaded. 

His  face  was  so  lined  and  eloquent  with  suffering  that 
her  own  lip  quivered. 

"Mr.  Lane,"  she  said,  "I  have  wronged  you.  I  am  very 
sorry  now.  I've  been  sorry  ever  since  I  began  to  think — 
since  you  last  called.  I  wish  you  could  forgive  me.  I  think 
it  would  be  better  for  us  both  if  you  could  forgive  me. " 

He  sank  into  a  chair,  and  burying  his  face  in  his  hands 
groaned  aloud;  then,  in  bitter  soliloquy,  said:  "Oh,  God  I 
I  was  right — I  knew  I  was  not  deceived.  She  is  just  the 
woman  I  believed  her  to  be.    Oh,  this  is  worse  than  death!" 

No  tears  came  into  his  eyes,  but  a  convulsive  shudder 
ran  through  his  frame  like  that  of  a  man  who  recoils  from 
the  worst  blow  of  fate. 

"Reproach— strike  me,  even,"  she  cried.  "Anything  is 
better  than  this.  Oh,  that  I  could— but  how  can  I?  Oh, 
what  an  unutterable  fool  I  have  been!  If  your  love  is  so 
strong,  it  should  also  be  a  little  generous.  As  a  woman  I 
appeal  to  you." 

He  rose  at  once  and  said:  "Forgive  me;  I  fear  that  1  have 
been  almost  insane — that  I  have  much  to  atone  for." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Lane,  I  entreat  you  to  forgive  me.  I  did  ad- 
mire you;  I  was  proud  of  your  preference — proud  that  one 
so  highly  thought  of  and  coveted  by  others  should  single  me 
out.     I  never  dreamed  that  my  vanity  and  thoughtlessness 


"BE   HOPEFUL,    THAT   I   MAY    HOPE"  61 

could  lead  to  this.  If  you  had  been  ill  or  in  trouble,  you 
would  have  had  my  honest  sympathy,  and  few  could  have 
sacrificed  more  to  aid  you.  I  never  harbored  one  thought  of 
cold-blooded  malice.  Why  must  I  be  punished  as  if  I  had 
committed  a  deliberate  crime  ?  If  I  am  the  girl  you  believe 
me  to  be,  what  greater  punishment  could  I  have  than  to 
know  that  I  had  harmed  a  man  like  you  ?  It  seems  to  me 
that  if  I  loved  any  one  I  could  suffer  for  him  and  help  him, 
without  asking  anything  in  return.  I  could  give  you  honest 
friendship,  and  take  heartfelt  delight  in  every  manly  success 
that  yon  achieved.  As  a  weak,  faulty  girl,  who  yet  wishes 
to  be  a  true  woman,  I  appeal  to  you.  Be  strong,  that  I  may 
be  strong;  be  hopeful,  that  I  may  hope;  be  all  that  you  can 
be,  that  I  may  not  be  disheartened  on  the  very  threshold  of 
the  better  life  I  had  chosen." 

He  took  her  hand,  and  said:  "I  am  not  unresponsive  to 
your  words.  I  feel  their  full  force,  and  hope  to  prove  that 
I  do;  but  there  is  a  tenacity  in  my  nature  that  I  cannot 
overcome.  You  said,  'if  you  loved' — do  you  not  love 
any  one  ?" 

"No.  You  are  more  to  me — twice  more — than  any  man 
except  my  father." 

"Then,  think  well.  Do  not  answer  me  now,  unless  you 
must.  Is  there  not  a  chance  for  me  ?  I  am  not  a  shadow 
of  a  man,  Marian.  I  fear  I  have  proved  too  well  how  strong 
and  concentrated  my  nature  is.  There  is  nothing  I  would 
not  do  or  dare — " 

"No,  Mr.  Lane;  no,"  she  interrupted,  shaking  her  head 
sadly,  •"!  will  never  consciously  mislead  a  man  again  a 
single  moment.  I  scarcely  know  what  love  is;  I  may  never 
know;  but  until  my  heart  prompts  me,  I  shall  never  give 
the  faintest  hope  or  encouragement  of  this  nature.  I  have 
been  taught  the  evil  of  it  too  bitterly." 

"And  I  have  been  your  remorseless  teacher,  and  thus 
perhaps  have  destroyed  my  one  chance." 

"You  are  wrong.  I  now  see  that  your  words  were  nat- 
ural to  one  like  you,  and  they  were  unjust  only   because 


62  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

I  was  not  deliberate.  Mr.  Lane,  let  me  be  your  friend.  I 
could  give  you  almost  a  sister's  love;  I  could  be  so  proud 
of  you!" 

"There,"  be  said.  "You  have  triumphed  after  all.  I 
pledge  you  my  word — all  the  manhood  I  possess — I  will  do 
whatever  you  ask." 

She  took  his  hand  in  both  her  own  with  a  look  of  grati- 
tude he  never  forgot,  and  spoke  gladly:  "Now  you  change 
everything.  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  did  not  go  away  before! 
What  a  sad,  sleepless  night  I  should  have  had,  and  sad  to- 
morrows stretching  on  indefinitely !  I  ask  very  much,  very 
much  indeed — that  you  make  the  most  and  best  of  yourself. 
Then  I  can  try  to  do  the  same.  It  will  be  harder  for  you 
than  for  me.  You  bring  me  more  hope  than  sadness;  I 
have  given  you  more  sadness  than  hope.  Yet  I  have  ab- 
solute faith  in  you  because  of  what  papa  said  to  me  last 
night.  I  had  asked  him  how  I  could  cease  to  be  what  I 
was,  be  different,  you  know,  and  he  said,  'Develop  the  best 
in  your  own  nature  naturally. '  If  you  will  do  this  I  shall 
have  no  fears. ' ' 

"Yet  I  have  been  positively  brutal  to  you  to-night." 

"No  man  can  be  so  strong  as  you  are  and  be  trifled  with. 
I  understand  that  now,  Mr.  Lane.  You  had  no  sentimental- 
ity to  be  touched,  and  my  tears  did  not  move  you  in  the 
least  until  you  believed  in  my  honest  contrition." 

"I  have  revealed  to  you  one  of  my  weaknesses.  I  am 
rarely  angry,  but  when  I  am,  my  passion,  after  it  is  over, 
frightens  me.  Marian,  you  do  forgive  me  in  the  very  depths 
of  your  heart?" 

llI  do  indeed — that  is,  if  I  have  anything  to  forgive  under 
the  circumstances." 

"Poor  little  girl !  how  pale  you  are !    I  fear  you  are  ill." 

"I  shall  soon  be  better— better  all  my  life  for  your  for- 
giveness and  promise. ' ' 

"Thank  God  that  we  are  parting  in  this  manner,"  he 
said.  "I  don't  like  to  think  of  what  might  have  happened, 
for  I  was  in  the  devil's  own  mood.     Marian,  if  you  make 


"BE   HOPEFUL,    THAT  I   MAY   HOPE"  63 

good  the  words  you  have  spoken  to-night,  if  you  become 
the  woman  you  can  be,  you  will  have  a  power  possessed  by 
few.  It  was  not  your  beauty  merely  that  fascinated  me,  but 
a  certain  individuality — something  all  your  own,  which 
gives  you  an  influence  apparently  absolute.  But  I  shall 
speak  no  more  in  this  strain.  I  shall  try  to  be  as  true  a 
friend  as  I  am  capable  of  becoming,  although  an  absent 
one.  I  must  prove  myself  by  deeds,  not  words,  however. 
May  I  write  to  you  sometimes  ?  I  will  direct  my  letters 
under  the  care  of  your  father,  and  you  may  show  them  to 
him  or  3-our  mother,  as  you  wish. " 

"Certainly  you  may,  and  you  will  be  my  first  and  only 
gentleman  correspondent.  After  what  has  passed  between 
us,  it  would  be  prudery  to  refuse.  Moreover,  I  wish  to  hear 
often  of  your  welfare.  Never  for  a  moment  will  my  warm 
interest  cease,  and  you  can  see  me  whenever  you  wish.  I 
have  one  more  thing  to  ask — please  take  up  your  old  life 
to-morrow,  just  where  you  left  off.  Do  nothing  hastily,  or 
from  impulse.  Remember  you  have  promised  to  make  the 
most  and  best  of  yourself,  and  that  requires  you  to  give 
conscience  and  reason  fair  hearing.*  Will  you  also  promise 
this?" 

"Anything  you  asked,  I  said." 

"Then  good-by.  Never  doubt  my  friendship,  as  I  shall 
not  doubt  yours." 

Her  hand  ached  from  the  pressure  of  his,  but  the  pain 
was  thus  drawn  from  her  heart. 


64  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


M 


CHAPTEE   VI 

A   SCHEME   OF   LIFE 

AEIAN  waited  for  her  father's  return,  having  been 
much  too  deeply  excited  for  the  speedy  advent  of 
quiet  sleep.  When  at  last  he  came  she  told  him 
everything.  As  she  described  the  first  part  of  the  inter- 
view his  brow  darkened,  but  his  face  softened  as  she  drew 
toward  the  close.     When  she  ceased  he  said: 

"Don't  you  see  I  was  right  in  saying  that  your  own  tact 
would  guide  you  better  than  my  reason  ?  If  I,  instead  of 
your  own  nature,  had  directed  you,  we  should  have  made 
an  awful  mess  of  it.  Now  let  me  think  a  moment.  This 
young  fellow  has  suggested  an  idea  to  me — a  general  line 
of  action  which  I  think  you  can  carry  out.  There  is  noth- 
ing like  a  good  definite  plan — not  cast-iron,  you  know,  but 
flexible  and  modified  by  circumstances  as  you  go  along, 
yet  so  clear  and  defined  as  to  give  you  something  to  aim 
at.  Confound  it,  that's  what's  the  matter  with  our  military 
authorities.  IE  McClellan  is  a  ditch- digger  let  them  put  a 
general  in  command;  or,  if  he  is  a  general,  give  him  what 
he  wants  and  let  him  alone.  There  is  no  head,  no  plan.  I 
confess,  however,  that  just  now  I  am  chiefly  interested 
in  your  campaigns,  which,  after  all,  stand  the  best  chance 
of  bringing  about  union,  in  spite  of  your  negative  mood 
manifested  to-night.  Nature  will  prove  too  strong  for  you, 
and  some  day — soon,  probably — you  will  conquer,  only  to 
surrender  yourself.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  plan  I  suggest 
need  not  be  interfered  with.     Be  patient.     I'm  only  follow- 


A    SCHEME    OF   LIFE  65 

ing  the  tactics  in  vogue — taking  the  longest  way  around 
to  the  point  to  be  attacked.  Lane  said  that  if  you  carried 
out  your  present  principle  of  action  you  would  have  a 
power  possessed  by  few.  I  think  he  is  right.  I'm  not  flat- 
tering you.  Little  power  of  any  kind  can  co-exist  with 
vanity.  The  secret  of  your  fascination  is  chiefly  in  your 
individuality.  There  are  other  girls  more  beautiful  and 
accomplished  who  have  not  a  tithe  of  it.  Now  and  then 
a  woman  is  peculiarly  gifted  with  the  power  to  influence 
men — strong  men,  too.  You  had  this  potency  in  no  slight 
degree  when  neither  your  heart  nor  your  brain  was  very 
active.  You  will  find  that  it  will  increase  with  time,  and 
if  you  are  wise  it  will  be  greater  when  you  are  sixty  than 
at  present.  If  you  avoid  the  Scylla  of  vanity  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  Charybdis  of  selfishness  on  the  other,  and  if 
the  sympathies  of  your  heart  keep  pace  with  a  cultivated 
mind,  you  will  steadily  grow  in  social  influence.  I  believe 
it  for  this  reason:  A  weak  girl  would  have  been  sentimental 
with  Lane,  would  have  yielded  temporarily,  either  to  his 
entreaty  or  to  his  anger,  only  to  disappoint  him  in  the  end, 
or  else  would  have  been  conventional  in  her  refusal  and  so 
sent  him  to  the  bad,  probably.  You  recognized  just  what 
you  could  be  to  him,  and  had  the  skill — nature,  rather,  for 
all  was  unpremeditated — to  obtain  an  influence  by  which 
you  can  incite  him  to  a  better  manhood  and  a  greater  suc- 
cess, perhaps,  than  if  he  were  your  accepted  lover.  Forgive 
this  long  preamble:  I  am  thinking  aloud  and  feeling  my 
way,  as  it  were.  What  did  you  ask  him  to  promise  ?  Why, 
to  make  the  most  and  best  of  himself.  Why  not  let  this 
sentence  suggest  the  social  scheme  of  your  life  ?  Drop  fel- 
lows who  have  neither  brains  nor  heart — no  good  mettle  in 
them — and  so  far  as  you  have  influence  strive  to  inspire 
the  others  to  make  the  most  and  best  of  themselves.  You 
would  not  find  the  kitchen-maid  a  rival  on  this  plan  of 
life;  nor  indeed,  I  regret  to  say,  many  of  your  natural 
associates.  Outwardly  your  life  will  appear  much  the  same, 
but  your  motive  will  change  everything,  and  flow  through 


66  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

all  your  action  like  a  mountain  spring,  rendering  it  impos- 
sible  for  you  to  poison  any  life. " 

"Oh,  papa,  the  very  possibility  of  what  you  suggest 
makes  life  appear  beautiful.     The  idea  of  a  convent!" 

"Convents  are  the  final  triumph  of  idiocy.  If  bad  wo- 
men could  be  shut  up  and  made  to  say  prayers  most  of  the 
time,  no  harm  at  least  would  be  done — the  good,  problem- 
atical; but  to  immure  a  woman  of  sweet,  natural,  God- 
bestowed  impulses  is  the  devil's  worst  practical  joke  in  this 
world.  Come,  little  girl,  it's  late.  Think  over  the  scheme; 
try  it  as  you  have  a  chance;  use  your  power  to  incite  men 
to  make  the  most  and  best  of  themselves.  This  is  better 
than  levying  your  little  tribute  of  flattery  and  attention, 
like  other  belles — a  phase  of  life  as  common  as  cobble- 
stones and  as  old  as  vanity.  For  instance,  you  have  an 
artist  among  your  friends.  Possibly  you  can  make  him  a 
better  artist  and  a  better  fellow  in  every  way.  Drop  all 
muffs  and  sticks;  don't  waste  yourself  on  them.  Have 
considerable  charity  for  some  of  the  wild  fellows,  none  for 
their  folly,  and  from  the  start  tolerate  no  tendencies  toward 
sentimentality.  You  will  find  that  the  men  who  admire 
girls  bent  on  making  eyes  rather  than  making  men  will  soon 
disappear.  Sensible  fellows  won't  misunderstand  you,  even 
though  prompted  to  more  than  friendship;  and  you  will  have 
a  circle  of  friends  of  which  any  woman  might  be  proud.  Of 
course  you  will  find  at  times  that  unspoken  negatives  will 
not  satisfy;  but  if  a  woman  has  tact,  good  sense,  and  sin- 
cerity, her  position  is  impregnable.  As  long  as  she  is  not 
inclined  to  love  a  man  herself,  she  can,  by  a  mere  glance, 
not  only  define  her  position,  but  defend  it.  By  simple  dig- 
nity and  reserve  she  can  say  to  all,  'Thus  far  and  no  far- 
ther. '  If,  without  encouragement,  any  one  seeks  to  break 
through  this  barrier  he  meets  a  quiet  negative  which  he 
must  respect,  and  in  his  heart  does  respect.  Now,  little 
girl,  to  sum  up  your  visit,  with  its  long  talks  and  their 
dramatic  and  unexpected  illustration,  I  see  nothing  to  pre- 
vent you  from  going  forward  and  making  the  best  and  most 


A    SCHEME    OF   LIFE  67 

of  your  life  according  to  nature  and  truth.  You  have  a 
good  start,  and  a  rather  better  chance  than  falls  to  the  lot 
of  the  majority." 

11 Truly,"  said  Marian,  thoughtfully,  "we  don't  appear 
to  grow  old  and  change  by  time  so  much  as  by  what  hap- 
pens— by  what  we  think  and  feel.  Everything  appears 
changed,    including  you  and  myself." 

"It's  more  in  appearance  than  in  reality.  You  will 
find  the  impetus  of  your  old  life  so  strong  that  it  will  be 
hard  even  to  change  the  direction  of  the  current.  You  will 
be  much  the  same  outwardly,  as  I  said  before.  The  stream 
will  flow  through  the  same  channel  of  characteristic  traits 
and  habits.  The  vital  change  must  be  in  the  stream  itself 
— the  motive  from  which  life  springs." 

How  true  her  father's  words  seemed  on  the  following 
evening  after  her  return!  Her  mother,  as  she  sat  down  to 
their  dainty  little  dinner,  looked  as  if  her  serenity  had  been 
undisturbed  by  a  single  perplexing  thought  during  the  past 
few  days.  There  was  the  same  elegant,  yet  rather  youthful 
costume  for  a  lady  of  her  years;  the  same  smiling  face,  not 
yet  so  full  in  its  outline  as  to  have  lost  all  its  girlish  beauty. 
It  was  marred  by  few  evidences  of  care  and  trouble,  nor  was 
it  spiritualized  by  thought  or  deep  experience. 

Marian  observed  her  closely,  not  with  any  disposition 
toward  cold  or  conscious  criticism,  but  in  order  that  she 
might  better  understand  the  conditions  of  her  own  life. 
Sue  also  had  a  wakening  curiosity  to  know  just  what  her 
mother  was  to  her  father  and  he  to  her.  The  hope  was 
forming  that  she  could  make  them  more  to  each  other. 
She  had  too  much  tact  to  believe  that  this  could  be  done 
by  general  exhortations.  If  anything  was  to  be  accom- 
plished it  must  be  by  methods  so  fine  and  unobtrusive  as 
to  be  scarcely  recognized. 

Her  father' 8  inner  life  had  been  a  revelation  to  her,  and 
she  was  led  to  query:  "Why  does  not  mamma  understand 
it?  Can  she  understand  it?"  Therefore  she  listened  at- 
tentively to  the  details  of  what  had  happened  in  her  ab- 


bW  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

sence.  She  waited  in  vain  for  any  searching  and  intelli- 
gent questions  concerning  the  absent  husband.  Beyond 
that  he  was  well,  and  that  everything  about  the  house  was 
just  as  she  had  left  it,  Mrs.  Vosburgh  appeared  to  have  no 
interest.  She  was  voluble  over  little  household  affairs,  the 
novel  that  just  then  absorbed  her,  and  especially  the  callers 
and  their  chagrin  at  finding  the  young  girl  absent. 

"Only  the  millionaire  widower  remained  any  length  of 
time  when  learning  that  you  were  away,"  said  the  lady, 
"and  he  spent  most  of  the  evening  with  me.  I  assure  you 
he  is  a  very  nice,  entertaining  old  fellow." 

"How  did  he  entertain  you?    What  did  he  talk  about?" 

"Let  me  remember.  Now  I  think  of  it,  what  didn't  he 
talk  about?  He  is  one  of  the  most  agreeable  gossips  I  ever 
met — knows  everybody  and  everything.  He  has  at  his  fin- 
ger-ends the  history  of  all  who  were  belles  in  my  time, 
and"  (complacently)  "I  find  that  few  have  done  better  than 
I,  while  some,  with  all  their  opportunities,  chose  very 
crooked  sticks." 

"You  are  right,  mamma.  It  seems  to  me  that  neither  of 
us  half  appreciates  papa.  He  works  right  on  so  quietly  and 
steadily,  and  yet  he  is  not  a  machine,  but  a  man. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  appreciate  him.  Nine  out  of  ten  that  he  might 
have  married  would  have  made  him  no  end  of  trouble.  I 
don't  make  him  any.  Well,  after  talking  about  the  people 
we  used  to  know,  Mr.  Lanniere  began  a  tirade  against  the 
times  and  the  war,  which  he  says  have  cost  him  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars;  but  he  took  care  in  a  quiet  way  to  let  me 
know  that  he  has  a  good  many  hundred  thousands  left.  I 
declare,  Marian,  you  mig'ht  do  a  great  deal  worse." 

"Do  you  not  think  I  might  do  a  great  deal  better?"  the 
young  girl  asked,  with  a  frown. 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  think  so.  Girls  will  be  romantic. 
I  was,  myself;  but  as  one  goes  on  in  life  one  finds  that  a 
million,  more  or  less,  is  a  very  comfortable  fact.  Mr.  Lan- 
niere has  a  fine  house  in  town,  but  he's  a  great  traveller, 
and  an  habitue  of  the  best  hotels  of  this  country  and  Eu- 


A    SCHEME    OF    LIFE  09 

rope.      You   could  see  the   world  with   him  on   its  golden 
side." 

"Well,  mamma,  I  want  a  man— not  an  habitue.  What's 
more,  I  must  be  in  love  with  the  man,  or  he  won't  stand  the 
ghost  of  a  chance.  So  you  see  the  prospects  are  that  you 
will  have  me  on  your  hands  indefinitely.  Mr.  Lanniere,  in- 
deed! What  should  I  be  but  a  part  of  his  possessions— an- 
other expensive  luxury  in  his  luxurious  life?  I  want  a  man 
like  papa — earnest,  large- brained,  and  large-hearted — who, 
instead  of  inveighing  against  the  times,  is  absorbed  in  the 
vital  questions  of  the  day,  and  is  doing  his  part  to  solve 
them  rightly.  I  would  like  to  take  Mr.  Lanniere  into  a 
military  hospital  or  cemetery,  and  show  him  what  the  war 
has  cost  other  men." 

11  Why,  Marian,  how  you  talk!" 

''I  wish  I  could  make  you  know  how  I  feel.  It  seems 
to  me  that  one  has  only  to  think  a  little  and  look  around  in 
order  to  feel  deeply.  I  read  of  an  awful  battle  while  com- 
ing up  in  the  cars.  We  have  been  promised,  all  the  spring, 
that  Richmond  would  be  taken,  the  war  ended,  and  all  go 
on  serenely  again;  but  it  doesn't  look  like  it." 

"What's  the  use  of  women  distressing  themselves  with 
such  things?"  said  Mrs.  Vosburgh,  irritably.  t4I  can't 
bear  to  think  of  war  and  its  horrors,  except  as  they  give 
spice  to  a  story.  Our  whole  trouble  is  a  big  political 
squabble,  and  you  know  I  detest  politics.  It  is  just  as 
Mr.  Lanniere  says — if  our  people  had  only  let  slavery 
alone  all  would  have  gone  on  well.  The  leaders  on  both 
sides  will  find  out  before  the  summer  is  over  that  they 
have  gone  too  far  and  fast,  and  they  had  better  settle  their 
differences  with  words  rather  than  blows.  We  shall  all  be 
shaking  hands  and  making  up  before  Christmas." 

11  Papa  doesn't  think  so." 

"Your  father  is  a  German  at  heart.  He  has  the  sense  to 
be  practical  about  every-day  affairs  and  enjoy  a  good  din- 
ner, but  he  amuses  himself  with  cloudy  speculations  and 
ideals  and  vast  questions  about  the  welfare  of  the  world,  or 


70  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

the  'trend  of  the  centuries,'  as  he  said  one  day  to  me.  I  al- 
ways try  to  laugh  him  out  of  such  vague  nonsense.  Has  he 
been  talking  to  you  about  the  'trend  of  the  centuries'  ?" 

"No,  mamma,  he  has  not,"  replied  Marian,  gravely; 
"but  if  he  does  I  shall  try  to  understand  what  he  means 
and  be  interested.  I  know  that  papa  feels  deeply  about 
the  war,  and  means  to  take  the  most  effective  part  in  it 
that  he  can,  and  that  he  does  not  think  it  will  end  so  easily 
as  you  believe.  These  facts  make  me  feel  anxious,  for  I 
know  how  resolute  papa  is." 

"He  has  no  right  to  take  any  risks,"  said  the  lady, 
emphatically. 

"He  surely  has  the  same  right  that  other  men  have.1' 

"Oh,  well,"  concluded  Mrs.  Vosburgh,  with  a  shrug, 
"there  is  no  use  in  borrowing  trouble.  When  it  comes  to 
acting,  instead  of  dreaming  and  speculating  on  vast,  misty 
questions,  I  can  always  talk  your  father  into  good  sense. 
That  is  the  best  thing  about  him — he  is  well-balanced,  in 
spite  of  his  tendency  to  theories.  When  I  show  him  that 
a  thing  is  quixotic  he  laughs,  shrugs  his  shoulders,  and 
good-naturedly  goes  on  in  the  even  tenor  of  his  waj7.  It 
was  the  luckiest  thing  in  the  world  for  him  when  he  mar- 
ried me,  for  I  soon  learned  his  weak  points,  and  have  ever 
guarded  him  against  them.  As  a  result  he  has  had  a  quiet, 
prosperous  career.  If  he  wishes  to  serve  the  government 
in  some  civilian  capacity,  and  is  well  paid  for  it,  why 
shouldn't  he?  But  I  would  never  hear  of  his  going  to 
the  front,  fighting,  and  marching  in  Virginia  mud  and 
swamps,  If  he  ever  breathes  such  a  thought  to  you,  I 
hope  j'ou  will  aid  me  in  showing  him  how  cruel  and  pre- 
posterous it  is." 

Marian  sighed,  as  she  thought:  "I  now  begin  to  see  how 
well  papa  understands  mamma,  but  has  she  any  gauge  by 
which  to  measure  him  ?  I  fear  he  has  found  his  home 
lonely,  in  spite  of  good  dinners." 

"Come,  my  dear,"  resumed  Mrs.  Vosburgh,  "we  are 
lingering  too  long.     Some  of  your  friends  may  be  calling 


A    SCHEME    OF   LIFE  71 

soon,  although  I  said  I  did  not  know  whether  yon  would 
be  at  home  to-night  or  not.  Mr.  Lanniere  will  be  very 
likely  to  come,  for  I  am  satisfied  that  he  has  serious  inten- 
tions. What's  more,  you  might  do  worse — a  great  deal 
worse. ' ' 

"Three  times  you  have  said  that,  mamma,  and  I  don't 
like  it,"  said  Marian,  a  little  indignantly.  "Of  course  I 
might  do  worse ;  I  might  kill  him,  and  I  should  be  tempted 
to  if  I  married  him.  You  know  that  I  do  not  care  for  him, 
and  he  knows  it,  too.  Indeed,  I  scarcely  respect  him.  You 
don't  realize  what  you  are  saying,  for  you  would  not  have 
me  act  from  purely  mercenary  motives  ?' ' 

"Oh,  certainly  not;  but  Mr.  Lanniere  is  not  a  monster 
or  a  decrepit  centenarian.  He  is  still  in  his  prime,  and  is  a 
very  agreeable  and  accomplished  man  of  the  world.  He  is 
well-connected,  moves  in  the  best  society,  and  could  give 
Ms  wife  everything." 

"He  couldn't  give  me  happiness,  and  he  would  spoil  my 
life." 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  feel  so,  there  is  nothing  more  to  be 
said.  I  can  tell  you,  though,  that  multitudes  of  girls 
would  be  glad  of  your  chance;  but,  like  so  many  young 
people,  you  have  romantic  ideas,  and  do  not  appreciate  the 
fact  that  happiness  results  chiefly  from  the  conditions  of  our 
lot,  and  that  we  soon  learn  to  have  plenty  of  affection  for 
those  who  make  them  all  we  could  desire;"  and  she  touched 
a  bell  for  the  waitress,  who  had  been  temporarily  dismissed. 

The  girl  came  in  with  a  faint  smile  on  her  face.  "Has 
she  been  listening?"  thought  Marian.  "That  creature, 
then,  with  her  vain,  pretty,  yet  vulgar  face,  is  the  type  of 
what  I  was.  She  has  been  lighting  the  drawing-room  for 
me  to  do  what  she  proposes  to  do  later  in  the  evening.  She 
looks  just  the  same.  Manama  is  just  the  same.  Callers  will 
come  just  the  same  How  unchanged  all  is,  as  papa  said  it 
would  be!     I  fear  much  may  be  unchangeable." 

She  soon  left  the  dining-room  for  the  parlor,  her  dainty, 
merry  little  campaigning-ground.     What  should  be  its  fu- 


72  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ture  record  ?  Could  she  carry  out  the  scheme  of  life  which 
her  father  had  suggested?  "Well,"  she  concluded,  with 
an  ominous  flash  in  her  eyes  at  her  fair  reflection  in  the 
mirror,  "whether  I  can  incite  any  one  to  better  things  or 
not,  I  can  at  least  do  some  freezing  out.  That  gossipy, 
selfish  old  Mr.  Lanniere  must  take  his  million  to  some  other 
market.  I  have  no  room  in  my  life  for  him.  Neither  do  I 
dote  on  the  future  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Strahan.  I  shall  put 
him  on  probation.  If  men  don't  want  my  society  and  re- 
gard on  the  new  conditions,  they  can  stay  away;  if  they 
persist  in  coming,  they  must  do  something  finer  and  be 
something  finer  than  in  the  past.  The  friendship  of  one 
man  like  Fenton  Lane  is  worth  more  than  the  attention  of 
a  wilderness  of  muffs  and  sticks,  as  papa  calls  them.  What 
I  fear  is  that  I  shall  appear  goody-goody,  and  that  would 
disgust  every  one,  including  myself.'1 


SURPRISES  73 


M 


CHAPTER  YII 

SURPRISES 

R.  LAXXIERE  evidently  had  serious  intentions,  for 
he  came  unfashionably  early.  He  fairly  beamed 
on  the  young  girl  when  he  found  her  at  home. 
Indeed,  as  she  stood  before  him  in  her  radiant  youth, 
which  her  evening  costume  enhanced  with  a  fine  taste 
quickly  recognized  by  his  practiced  eyes,  he  very  justly 
regarded  her  as  better  than  anything  which  his  million  had 
purchased  hitherto.  It  might  easily  be  imagined  that  he 
had  added  a  little  to  the  couleur  de  rose  of  the  future 
by  an  extra  glass  of  Burgundy,  for  he  positively  appeared 
to  exude  an  atmosphere  of  affluence,  complacency,  and  gra- 
cious intention.  The  quick-witted  girl  detected  at  once  his 
King-Cophetua  air,  and  she  was  more  amused  than  embar- 
rassed. Then  the  eager  face  of  Fenton  Lane  arose  in  her 
fancy,  and  she  heard  his  words,  "I  would  shoulder  a  mus- 
ket and  march  away  to-morrow  if  you  bade  me!"  How 
insignificant  was  all  that  this  man  could  offer,  as  compared 
with  the  boundless,  self-sacrificing  love  of  the  other,  before 
whom  her  heart  bowed  in  sincere  homage  if  nothing  more ! 
What  was  this  man's  offer  but  an  expression  of  selfishness? 
And  what  could  she  ever  be  but  an  accessory  of  his  Bur- 
gundy ?  Indeed,  as  his  eyes,  humid  from  wine,  gloated 
upon  her,  and  he  was  phrasing  his  well-bred  social  plati- 
tudes and  compliments,  quite  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  her 
eyes  were  taking  on  the  blue  of  a  winter  sky,  her  cheeks 
began  to  grow  a  little  hot  with  indignation    and  shame, 

Roe— VI— 4 


74  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

He  knew  that  she  did  not  love  him,  that  naturally  she 
could  not,  and  that  there  had  been  nothing  in  their  past 
relations  to  inspire  even  gratitude  and  respect  toward  him. 
In  truth,  his  only  effort  had  been  to  show  his  preference 
and  to  indicate  his  wishes.  What  then  could  his  offer  mean 
but  the  expectation  that  she  would  take  him  as  a  good  bar- 
gain, and,  like  any  well-bred  woman  of  the  world,  comply 
with  all  its  conditions  ?  Had  she  given  him  the  impression 
that  she  could  do  this?  While  the  possibility  made  her 
self-reproachful,  she  was  conscious  of  rising  resentment 
toward  him  who  was  so  complacently  assuming  that  she 
was  for  sale. 

"Indeed,  Miss  Yosburgh,"  was  the  conclusion  of  his 
rather  long  preliminaries,  "you  must  not  run  away  soon 
again.  June  days  may  be  charming  under  any  circum- 
stances, but  your  absence  certainly  insures  dull  June 
evenings." 

"You  are  burdening  your  conscience  without  deceiving 
me,"  the  young  girl  replied,  demurely,  "and  should  not 
so  wrong  yourself.  Mamma  said  that  you  were  very  enter- 
taining, and  that  last  evening  was  a  delightful  one.  It 
could  scarcely  be  otherwise.  It  is  natural  that  people 
of  the  same  age  should  be  congenial.  I  will  call  mamma 
at  once. ' ' 

"I  beg  you  will  not — at  least  not  just  yet.  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  which  I  trust  you  will  listen  kindly  and 
favorably.     Do  you  think  me  so  very  old  ?" 

"No  older  than  you  have  a  perfect  right  to  be,  Mr.  Lan- 
niere,"  said  the  girl,  laughing.  "I  can  think  of  no  reason 
for  your  reproachful  tone." 

"Let  me  give  you  one  then.  Your  opinions  are  of  im- 
mense importance  to  me." 

"Truly,  Mr.  Lanniere,  this  is  strange  beyond  measure, 
especially  as  I  am  too  young  to  have  formed  many  opin- 
ions." 

"That  fact  only  increases  my  admiration  and  regard. 
One  must  reach  my  years  in  order  to  appreciate  truly  the 


SURPRISES  75 

dewy  freshness  of  youth.  The  world  is  a  terra  incognita 
to  you  yet,  and  your  opinions  of  life  are  still  to  be  formed. 
Let  me  give  you  a  chance  to  see  the  world  from  lofty,  sunny 
elevations. " 

■'I  am  too  recently  from  my  geography  not  to  remember 
that  while  elevations  may  be  sunny  they  are  very  cold," 
was  the  reply,  with  a  charming  little  shiver.  "Mont  Blanc 
has  too  much  perspective.  " 

"Do  not  jest  with  me  or  misunderstand  me,  Miss  Vos- 
burgh,"  he  said,  impressively.  "There  is  a  happy  mean 
in  all  things. " 

;>  Yes,  Mr.  Lanniere,  and  the  girl  who  means  to  be  happy 
should  take  care  to  discover  it. ' ' 

"May  it  not  be  discovered  for  her  by  one  who  is  better 
acquainted  with  life?  In  woman's  experience  is  not  happi- 
ness more  often  thrust  upon  her  than  achieved?  I,  who 
know  the  world  and  the  rich  pleasures  and  triumphs  it 
affords  to  one  who,  in  the  military  phrase  of  the  day, 
is  well  supported,  can  offer  you  a  great  deal — more  than 
most  men,  I  assure  you." 

"Why,  Mr.  Lanniere,"  said  the  young  girl,  looking  at 
him  with  demure  surprise,  "I  am  perfectly  contented  and 
happy.  No  ambition  for  triumphs  is  consuming  me.  What 
triumphs  ?  As  for  pleasure,  each  day  brings  all  and  more 
than  I  deserve.  Young  as  one  may  be,  one  can  scarcely 
act  without  a  motive. ' ' 

"Then  I  am  personally  nothing  to  you  ?"  he  said  stiffly, 
and  rising. 

"Pardon  me,  Mr.  Lanniere.  I  hope  my  simple  direct- 
ness may  not  appear  childish,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  I 
have  met  your  suggestions  with  natural  answers.  What 
should  you  be  to  me  but  an  agreeable  friend  of  mamma's?" 

He  understood  her  fence  perfectly,  and  was  aware  that 
the  absence  of  a  mercenary  spirit  on  her  part  made  his  suit 
appear  almost  ridciulous.  If  her  clear  young  eyes  would 
not  see  him  through  a  golden  halo,  but  only  as  a  man  and 
a  possible  mate,  what  could  he  be  to  her  ?     Even  gold-fed 


76  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

egotism  could  not  blind  him  to  the  truth  that  she  was  look- 
ing at  him,  and  that  the  thought  of  bartering  herself  for  a 
little  more  of  what  she  had  to  her  heart's  content  already 
was  not  even  considered.  There  was  distressing  keenness 
in  the  suggestion  that,  not  wanting  the  extraneous  things 
he  offered,  no  motive  was  left.  He  was  scarcely  capable  of 
suspecting  her  indignation  that  he  should  deem  her  capable 
of  sacrificing  her  fair  young  girlhood  for  greater  wealth  and 
luxury,  even  had  she  coveted  them — an  indignation  en- 
hanced by  her  new  impulses.  The  triumphs,  happiness, 
and  power  which  she  now  was  bent  on  achieving  could 
never  be  won  under  the  dense  shade  of  his  opulent  selfish- 
ness. He  embodied  all  that  was  inimical  to  her  hopes  and 
plans,  all  that  was  opposed  to  the  motives  and  inspiration 
received  from  her  father,  and  she  looked  at  him  with 
unamiable  eyes. 

While  he  saw  this  to  some  extent,  he  was  unaccustomed 
to  denial  by  others  or  by  himself.  She  was  alluringly  beau- 
tiful, as  she  stood  before  him — all  the  more  valued  because 
she  valued  herself  so  highly,  all  the  more  coveted  because 
superior  to  the  sordid  motives  upon  which  even  he  had 
counted  as  the  chief  allies  in  his  suit.  In  the  intense  long- 
ing of  a  self-indulgent  nature  he  broke  out,  seizing  her  hand 
as  he  spoke:  "Oh,  Miss,  Marian,  do  not  deny  me.  I  know 
1  could  make  you  happy.  1  would  give  you  everything. 
Your  slightest  wish  should  be  law.     I  would  be  your  slave." 

"I  do  not  wish  a  slave,"  she  replied,  freezingly,  with- 
drawing her  hand.  "I  am  content,  as  I  told  you;  but  were 
I  compelled  to  make  a  choice  it  should  be  in  favor  of  a  man 
to  whom  I  could  look  up,  and  whom  I  could  aid  in  manly 
work.  I  shall  not  make  a  choice  until  compelled  to  by  my 
heart." 

"If  your  heart  is  still  your  own,  give  me  a  chance  to  win 
it,"  resumed  the  suitor,  seeking  vainly  to  take  her  hand 
again.  "I  am  in  my  prime,  and  can  do  more  than  most 
men.  I  will  put  my  wealth  at  your  disposal,  engage  in 
noble  charities,  patriotic — " 


SURPRISES  77 

This  interview  had  been  so  absorbing  as  to  make  them 
oblivious  of  the  fact  that  another  visitor  had  been  admitted 
to  the  hall.  Hearing  voices  in  the  drawing-room,  Mr.  Stra- 
han  entered,  and  now  stood  just  behind  Mr.  Lanniere,  with 
an  expression  in  which  dismay,  amusement,  and  embarrass- 
ment were  so  comically  blended  that  Marian,  who  first  saw 
him,  had  to  cover  her  face  with  her  handkerchief  to  hide 
her  sense  of  the  ludicrous. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  the  inopportune  newcomer,  l'I — I — " 

"Maledictions  on  you!"  exclaimed  the  goaded  million- 
aire, now  enraged  beyond  self-control,  and  confronting  the 
young  fellow  with  glaring,  bloodshot  eyes. 

This  greeting  put  Strahan  entirely  at  his  ease,  and  a 
glimpse  of  Marian's  mirth  had  its  influence  also.  She  had 
turned  instantly  away,  and  gone  to  the  further  side  of  the 
apartment. 

"Come  now,  Mr.  Lanniere,"  he  said,  with  an  assumption 
of  much  dignity;  "there  is  scant  courtesy  in  your  greeting, 
and  without  reason.  I  have  the  honor  of  Miss  Vosburgh's 
acquaintance  as  truly  as  yourself.  This  is  her  parlor,  and 
she  alone  has  the  right  to  indicate  that  I  am  unwelcome. 
I  shall  demand  no  apologies  here  and  now,  but  I  shall 
demand  them.     I  may  appear  very  young — " 

"Yes,  you  do;  very  young.  I  should  think  that  ears 
like  yours  might  have — "  And  then  the  older  man  paused, 
conscious  that  the  violence  of  his  anger  was  carrying  him 
too  far. 

Strahan  struck  a  nonchalant  attitude,  as  he  coolly  re- 
marked: "My  venerable  friend,  your  passion  is  unbecoming 
to  your  years.  Miss  Vosburgh,  I  humbly  ask  your  pardon 
that  my  ears  were  not  long  enough  to  catch  the  purport  of 
this  interview.  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  listening  at  a  lady's 
door  before  I  enter.  My  arrival  at  a  moment  so  awkward 
for  me  was  my  misfortune.  I  discovered  nothing  to  your 
discredit,  Mr.  Lanniere.  Indeed,  your  appreciation  of  Miss 
Vosburgh  is  the  most  creditable  thing  I  know  about  you — 
far  more  so  than  your  insults  because  I  merely  entered  the 


78  AN    ORIGINAL   BELLE 

door  to  which  I  was  shown  by  the  maid  who  admitted  me. 
Miss  Vosburgh,  with  your  permission  I  will  now  depart, 
in  the  hope  that  you  will  forgive  the  annoyance—" 

"I  cannot  give  you  my  permission  under  the  circum- 
stances, Mr.  Strahan.  You  have  committed  no  offence 
against  me,  or  Mr.  Lanniere,  either,  as  he  will  admit  after 
a  little  thought.  Let  us  regard  the  whole  matter  as  one  of 
those  awkward  little  affairs  over  which  good  breeding  can 
speedily  triumph.     Sit  down,  and  I  will  call  mamma." 

kl Pardon  me,  Miss  Vosburgh,"  said  Mr.  Lanniere,  in  a 
choking  voice,  for  he  could  not  fail  to  note  the  merriment 
which  the  mercurial  Strahan  strove  in  vain  to  suppress; 
"I  will  leave  you  to  more  congenial  society.  I  have  paid 
you  the  highest  compliment  in  my  power,  and  have  been 
ill-requited." 

As  if  stung,  the  young  girl  took  a  step  toward  him,  and 
said,  indignantly:  4iWhat  was  the  nature  of  your  compli- 
ment? What  have  you  asked  but  that  I  should  sell  myself 
for  money  ?  I  may  have  appeared  to  you  a  mere  society 
girl,  but  I  was  never  capable  of  that.     Good-evening,  sir." 

Mr.  Lanniere  departed  with  tingling  ears,  and  a  dawning 
consciousness  that  he  had  overrated  his  million,  and  that  he 
had  made  a  fool  of  himself  generally. 

All  trace  of  mirth  passed  from  Strahan's  expression,  as 
he  looked  at  the  young  girl's  stern,  flushed  face  and  the 
angry  sheen  of  her  eyes. 

"By  Jove!"  he  exclaimed,  "that's  magnificent.  I've 
seen  a  girl  now  to  whom  1  can  take  off  my  hat,  not  as  a 
mere  form.  Half  the  girls  in  our  set  would  have  given 
their  eyes  for  the  chance  of  capturing  such  a  man.  Think 
what  a  vista  of  new  bonnets  he  suggests  V ' 

11  You  are  probably  mistaken.  One  girl  has  proved  how 
she  regarded  the  vista,  and  1  don't  believe  you  had  any 
better  opinion  of  me  than  of  the  others.  Come  now,  own 
up.  Be  honest.  Didn't  you  regard  me  as  one  of  the  girls 
lin  our  set'  as  you  phrase  it,  that  would  jump  at  the 
chance?" 


SURPRISES  79 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Miss  Marian.     The  idea — " 

She  checked  him  by  a  gesture.  "I  wish  downright  sin- 
cerity, and  1  shall  detect  the  least  false  note  in  your  words." 

Strahan  looked  into  her  resolute,  earnest  eyes  a  moment, 
and  then  revealed  a  new  trait.  He  discarded  the  slight 
affectation  that  characterized  his  manner,  stood  erect,  and 
returned  her  gaze  steadily.  "You  ask  for  downright  sin- 
cerity ?"  he  said. 

"Yes;  I  will  take  nothing  less." 

"You  have  no  right  to  ask  it  unless  you  will  be  equally 
sincere  with  me." 

14 Oh,  indeed;  you  are  in  a  mood  for  bargains,  as  well  as 
Mr.  Lanniere. " 

"Not  at  all.  You  have  stepped  out  of  the  role  of  the 
mere  society  girl.  In  that  guise  I  shall  be  all  deference  and 
compliments.  On  the  basis  of  downright  sincerity  I  have 
my  rights,  and  you  have  no  right  to  compel  me  to  give  an 
honest  opinion  so  personal  in  its  nature  without  giving  one 
in  return. ' ' 

"I  agree,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's  thought. 

"Well,  then,  while  I  was  by  no  means  sure,  I  thought 
it  was  possible,  even  probable,  that  you  would  accept  a  man 
like  Lanniere.  I  have  known  society  girls  to  do  such 
things,  haven't  you?" 

"And  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Strahan,  that  you  misjudge  a  great 
many  society  girls." 

"Oh,  you  must  tell  me  a  great  deal  more  than  that. 
Have  I  not  just  discovered  that  I  misjudged  one?  Now 
pitch  into  Arthur  Strahan." 

"I  am  inclined  to  think  that  I  have  misjudged  you,  also; 
but  I  will  keep  my  compact,  and  give  you  the  impression 
you  made,  and  you  won't  like  it. " 

"I  don't  expect  to;  but  I  shall  expect  dowDright  sin- 
cerity. ' ' 

"Very  well.  I'll  test  you.  You  are  not  simple  and 
manly,  even  in  your  dress  and  manner;  you  are  an  anom- 
aly in  the  country;  you  are  inclined  to  gossip;   and  it's  my 


80  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

belief  that  a  young  man  should  do  more  in  life  than  amuse 
himself." 

Strahan  flushed,  but  burst  out  laughing  as  he  exclaimed, 
"My  photograph,  by  Jupiter!" 

11  Photographs  give  mere  surface.  Come,  what's  beneath 
it?" 

"In  one  respect,  at  least,  I  think  I  am  on  a  par  with  your- 
self. I  have  enough  honest  good-nature  to  listen  to  the  truth 
with  thanks." 

'4Is  that  all?" 

11  Come,  Miss  Marian,  what  is  the  use  of  words  when  1 
have  had  such  an  example  of  deeds  ?  I  have  caught  you, 
red-handed,  in  the  act  of  giving  a  millionaire  his  conge. 
In  the  face  of  this  stern  fact  do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to 
try  to  fish  up  some  germs  of  manhood  for  your  inspection  ? 
As  you  have  suggested,  I  must  do  something,  or  I'm  out 
of  the  race  with  you.  I  honestly  believe,  though,  I  am  not 
such  a  fool  as  I  have  seemed.  I  shall  always  be  something 
of  a  rattle-brain,  I  suppose,  and  if  I  were  dying  I  could 
not  help  seeing  the  comical  side  of  things."  He  hesitated 
a  moment,  and  then  asked,  abruptly,  "Miss  Marian,  have 
you  read  to-day's  paper?" 

tlYes,  I  have,"  with  a  tinge  of  sadness  in  her  tone. 

"Well,  so  have  I.  Think  of  thousands  of  fine  young 
fdlows  lying  stiff  and  stark  in   those  accursed  swamps!" 

"Yes,"  she" cried,  with  a  rush  of  tears,  "I  will  think  of 
them.  I  will  try  to  see  them,  horrible  as  the  sight  is,  even 
in  fancy.  When  they  died  so  heroically,  shame  on  me  if 
I  turn  away  in  weak,  dainty  disgust!  Oh,  the  burning 
shame  that  Northern  girls  don't  think  more  of  such  men 
and  their  self-sacrifice!" 

"You're  a  trump,  Miss  Marian;  that's  evident.  Well, 
one  little  bit  of  gossip  about  myself,  and  then  I  must  go. 
I  have  another  engagement  this  evening.  Old  Lanniere 
was  right.  I'm  young,  and  I've  been  very  young.  Of  late 
I've  made  deliberate  effort  to  remain  a  fool;  but  a  man 
has  got  to  be  a  fool  or  a  coward  down  to  the  very  hard- 


SURPRISES  81 

pao  of  his  soul  if  the  logic  of  recent  events  has  no  effect 
on  him.  I  don't  think  I  am  exactly  a  coward,  but  the  re- 
straint of  army- life,  and  especially  roughing  it,  is  very  dis- 
tasteful. I  kept  thinking  it  would  all  soon  be  over,  that 
more  men  were  in  now  than  were  needed,  and  that  it  was 
a  confounded  disagreeable  business,  and  all  that.  But  my 
mind  wasn't  at  rest;  I  wasn't  satisfied  with  the  ambitions 
of  my  callow  youth;  and,  as  usual  when  one  is  in  trouble 
and  in  doubt  about  a  step,  I  exaggerated  my  old  folly  to 
disguise  my  feelings.  But  this  Richmond  campaign,  and 
the  way  Stonewall  Jackson  has  been  whacking  our  fellows 
in  the  Shenandoah,  made  me  feel  that  I  was  standing  back 
too  long,  and  the  battle  described  in  to-day's  paper  brought 
me  to  a  decision.  I'm  in  for  it,  Miss  Marion.  You  may 
think  I'm  not  worth  the  powder  required  to  blow  me  up, 
but  I'm  going  to  Virginia  as  soon  as  I  can  learn  enough 
not  to  be  more  dangerous  to  those  around  me  than  to 
the  enemy. " 

She  darted  to  his  side,  and  took  his  hand,  exclaiming, 
"Mr.  Strahan!  forgive  me;  I've  done  you  a  hundred -fold 
more  injustice  than  you  have  me!" 

He  was  visibly  embarrassed,  a  thing  unusual  with  him, 
and  he  said,  brusquely:  "Oh,  come  now,  don't  let  us  have 
any  pro  patria  exaltation.  I  don't  resemble  a  hero  any 
more  than  I  do  a  doctor  of  divinity.  I'm  just  like  lots  of 
other  young  fellows  who  have  gone,  only  I  have  been 
slower  in  going,  and  my  ardor  won't  set  any  river  on  lire. 
But  the  times  are  waking  up  all  who  have  any  wake- up  in 
them,  and  the  exhibition  of  the  latest  English  cut  in  coats 
and  trousers  is  taking  on  a  rather  inglorious  aspect.  How 
ridiculous  it  all  seems  in  the  light  of  the  last  battle!  Jove! 
but  I  have  been  young!" 

He  did  look  young  indeed,  with  his  blond  mustache 
and  flushed  face,  that  was  almost  as  fair  as  a  girl's.  She 
regarded  him  wonderingly,  thinking  how  strangely  events 
were  applying  the  touchstone  to  one  and  another.  But  the 
purpose  of   this  boyish-appearing   exquisite  was   the  most 


82  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

unexpected  thing  in  the  era  of  change  that  had  begun. 
She  could  scarcely  believe  it,  and  exclaimed,  "You  face 
a  cannon  ?" 

"I  don't  look  like  it,  do  I?  I  fancy  I  would.  I  should 
be  too  big  a  coward  to  run  away,  for  then  I  should  have 
to  come  back  to  face  you,  which  would  be  worse,  you 
know.  I'm  not  going  to  do  any  bragging,  however.  Deeds, 
deeds.  Not  till  I  have  laid  out  a  Johnny,  or  he  has  laid 
me  out,  can  I  take  rank  with  you  after  your  rout  of 
the  man  of  millions.  I  don't  ask  you  to  believe  in  me 
yet." 

"Well,  I  do  believe  in  you.  You  are  making  an  odd  yet 
vivid  impression  on  me.  I  believe  you  will  face  danger  just 
as  you  did  Mr.  Lanniere,  in  a  half-nonchalant  and  a  half- 
satirical  mood,  while  all  the  time  there  will  be  an  under- 
current of  downright  earnestness  and  heroism  in  you,  which 
you  will  hide  as  if  you  were  ashamed  of  it." 

He  flushed  with  pleasure,  but  only  laughed,  "We'll 
see."  Then  after  a  moment  he  added,  "Since  we  are  down 
to  the  bed-rock  in  our  talk  I'll  say  out  the  rest  of  my  say, 
then  follow  Lanniere,  and  give  him  something  more  to 
digest  before  he  sleeps." 

"Halt,  sir— military  jargon  already— how  can  you  con- 
tinue your  quarrel  with  Mr.  Lanniere  without  involving 
my  name?" 

Strahan  looked  blank  for  a  second,  then  exclaimed: 
"Another  evidence  of  extreme  youth!  Lanniere  may  go 
to  thunder  before  I  risk  annoying  you." 

"Yes,  thank  you;  please  let  him  go  to  thunder.  He 
won't  talk  of  the  affair,  and  so  can  do  you  no  harm." 

"Supposing  he  could,  that  would  be  no  excuse  for 
annoying  you." 

"I  think  you  punished  him  sufficiently  before  he  went, 
and  without  ceasing  to  be  a  gentleman,  too.  If  you 
carry  out  your  brave  purpose  you  need  not  fear  for  your 
reputation.' ' 

"Well,  Miss  Marian,  I  shall  carry  it  out     Society  girl 


SURPRISES  83 

as  I  believed  you  to  be,  I  like  you  better  than  the  others. 
Don't  imagine  I'm  going  to  be  sentimental.  I  should  stand 
as  good  a  chance  of  winning  a  major-general's  stars  as  you. 
I've  seen  better  fellows  raising  the  siege  and  disappearing, 
you  know.  Well,  the  story  I  thought  would  be  short  is 
becoming  long.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  first  what  I  proposed; 
for,  hang  it  all!  I've  read  it  in  your  eyes  that  you  thought 
I  was  little  better  than  a  popinjay,  and  I  wished  to  prove 
to  you  that  I  could  be  a  man  after  my  fashion." 

"I  like  your  fashion,  and  am  grateful  for  your  confi- 
dence. What's  more,  you  won't  be  able  to  deceive  me  a 
bit  hereafter.  I  shall  persist  in  admiring  you  as  a  brave 
man,  and  shall  stand  up  for  you  through  thick  and 
thin." 

"You  always  had  a  kind  of  loyalty  to  us  fellows  that  we 
recognized  and  appreciated." 

"1  feel  now  as  if  I  had  not  been  very  loyal  to  any  one, 
not  even  myself.  As  with  you,  however,  I  must  let  the 
future  tell  a  different  story." 

"If  I  make  good  my  words,  will  you  be  my  friend?" 

"Yes,  yes  indeed,  and  a  proud  one.  But  oh!" — she 
clasped  her  hand  over  her  eyes — "what  is  all  this  tending 
to?  When  I  think  of  the  danger  and  suffering  to  which 
you  may — ' ' 

"Oh,  come  now,"  he  interrupted,  laughing,  but  with  a 
little  suspicious  moisture  in  eyes  as  blue  as  her  own;  "it 
will  be  harder  for  you  to  stay  and  think  of  absent  friends 
than  for  them  to  go.  I  foresee  how  it  will  turn  out.  You 
will  be  imagining  high  tragedy  on  stormy  nights  when  we 
shall  be  having  a  jolly  game  of  poker.  Good-night.  I  shall 
be  absent  for  a  time — going  to  West  Point  to  be  coached  a 
little  by  my  friend  Captain  Varrum." 

He  drew  himself  up,  saluted  her  a  la  militaire,  right- 
about-faced with  the  stirfness  of  a  ramrod,  and  was  depart- 
ing, when  a  light  hand  touched  his  arm,  and  Marian  said, 
with  a  look  so  kind  and  sympathetic  that  his  eyes  fell  before 
it:    "Eeport  to  me  occasionally,  Captain  Strahan.      There 


84  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

are  my  colors;"  and  she  gave  him  a  white  rose  from  her 

belt. 

His  mouth  quivered  slightly,  but  with  a  rather  faltering 
laugh  he  replied,  as  he  put  the  rose  to  his  lips,  "Never  let 
the  color  suggest  that  I  will  show  the  white  feather";  and 
then  he  began  his  military  career  with  a  precipitate  retreat. 


CHARMED   BY   A    CRITIC  85 


CHAPTER   VIII 

CHARMED   BY    A   CRITIC 

WT  T  THAT  next?"  was  Marian's  wondering  query  after 
\/\/  Mr.  Strahan's  departure.  The  change  of  motive 
*  ▼  which  already  had  had  no  slight  influence  on 
her  own  action  and  feeling  had  apparently  ushered  in  a  new 
era  in  her  experience;  but  the  sense  of  novelty  in  personal 
affairs  was  quite  lost  as  she  contemplated  the  transformation 
in  the  mercurial  Strahan,  who  had  apparently  been  an  irre- 
deemable fop.  That  the  fastidious  exquisite  should  tramp 
through  Virginia  mud,  and  face  a  battery  of  hostile  cannon, 
appeared  to  her  the  most  marvellous  of  human  paradoxes. 
An  hour  before  she  would  have  declared  the  idea  prepos- 
terous. Now  she  was  certain  he  would  do  all  that  he  had 
said,  and  would  do  it  in  the  manner  satirical  and  depreca- 
tory toward  himself  which  she  had  suggested. 

Radical  as  the  change  seemed,  she  saw  that  it  was  a  nat- 
ural one  as  he  had  explained  it.  If  there  was  any  manhood 
in  him  the  times  would  evoke  it.  After  all,  his  chief  faults 
had  been  youth  and  a  nature  keenly  sensitive  to  certain 
social  influences.  Belonging  to  a  wealthy  and  fashionable 
clique  in  the  city,  he  had  early  been  impressed  by  the  esti- 
mated importance  of  dress  and  gossip.  To  excel  in  these, 
therefore,  was  to  become  pre-eminent.  As  time  passed, 
however,  the  truth,  never  learned  by  some,  that  his  clique 
was  not  the  world,  began  to  dawn  on  him.  He  was  foolish, 
but  not  a  fool;  and  when  he  saw  young  fellows  no  older 
than  himself  going  to  the  front,  when  he  read  of  their 
achievements  and  sufferings,   he  drew  comparisons.     The 


86  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

result  was  that  he  became  more  and  more  dissatisfied.  He 
felt  that  he  was  anomalous,  in  respect  not  only  to  the  rural 
scenery  of  his  summer  home,  but  to  the  times,  and  the  con- 
viction was  growing  that  the  only  way  to  right  himself  was 
to  follow  the  host  of  American  youth  who  had  gone  south- 
ward. It  was  a  conviction  to  which  he  could  not  readily 
yield,  and  which  he  sought  to  disguise  by  exaggerating 
his  well-known  characteristics.  People  of  his  temperament 
often  shrink  from  revealing  their  deeper  feelings,  believing 
that  these  would  seem  to  others  so  incongruous  as  to  call 
forth  incredulous  smiles.  Strahan  was  not  a  coward,  except 
in  the  presence  of  ridicule.  This  had  more  terrors  for  him 
than  all  the  guns  of  the  Confederacy;  and  he  knew  that 
every  one,  from  his  own  family  down,  would  laugh  at  the 
thought  of  his  going  to  the  war.  In  a  way  that  puzzled  him 
a  little  he  felt  that  he  would  not  care  so  much  if  Marian 
Yosburgh  did  not  laugh.  The  battle  of  which  he  had  read 
to-day  had  at  last  decided  him;  he  must  go;  but  if  Marian 
would  give  him  credit  for  a  brave,  manly  impulse,  and  not 
think  of  him  as  a  ludicrous  spectacle  when  he  donned  the 
uniform,  he  would  march  away  with  a  light  heart.  He  did 
not  analyze  her  influence  over  him,  but  only  knew  that 
she  had  a  peculiar  fascination  which  it  was  not  in  his  im- 
pressionable nature  to  resist. 

Thus  it  may  be  seen  that  he  only  gave  an  example  of  the 
truth  that  great  apparent  changes  are  the  result  of  causes 
that  have  long  been  secretly  active. 

Marian,  like  many  others,  did  not  sufficiently  take  this 
fact  into  account,  and  was  on  the  qui  vive  for  other  remark- 
able manifestations.  They  did  not  occur.  As  her  father 
had  predicted,  life,  in  its  outward  conditions,  resumed  its 
normal  aspects.  Her  mother  laughed  a  little,  sighed  a  little, 
when  she  heard  the  story  of  Mr.  Lanniere's  final  exit;  the 
coquettish  kitchen-maid  continued  her  career  with  undis- 
turbed complacency;  and  Marian  to  her  own  surprise  found 
that,  after  the  first  days  of  her  enthusiasm  had  passed,  it 
required  the  exertion  of  no  little  will-power  to  refrain  from 


CHARMED    BY    A    CRITIC  87 

her  old  motives  and  tactics.  But  she  was  loyal  to  herself 
and  to  her  implied  promise  to  her  father.  She  knew  that 
he  was  watching  her — that  he  had  set  his  heart  on  the  de- 
velopment, in  a  natural  way,  of  her  best  traits.  She  also 
knew  that  if  she  faltered  she  must  face  his  disappointment 
and  her  own  contempt. 

She  had  a  horror,  however,  of  putting  on  what  she  called 
"goody-goody  airs,"  and  under  the  influence  of  this  feeling 
acted  much  like  her  old  self.  Not  one  of  her  callers  could 
have  charged  her  with  manifesting  a  certain  kind  of  mis- 
leading favor,  but  her  little  salon  appeared  as  free  from 
restraint  as  ever,  and  her  manner  as  genial  and  lively.  It 
began  to  be  observed  by  some,  however,  that  while  she 
participated  unhesitatingly  in  the  light  talk  of  others,  she 
herself  would  occasionally  broach  topics  of  more  weight, 
especially  such  as  related  to  the  progress  of  the  war;  and 
more  than  once  she  gave  such  direction  to  her  conversation 
with  the  artist  as  made  his  eyes  kindle. 

Her  father  was  satisfied.  He  usually  came  home  late  on 
Saturday,  and  some  of  her  gentleman  friends  who  were  in 
the  habit  of  dropping  in  of  a  Sunday  evening,  were  soon 
taught  that  these  hours  were  engaged. 

11  You  need  not  excuse  yourself  on  my  account,"  her 
father  had  said  to  her. 

11  But  I  shall,"  was  her  prompt  response.  "After  all 
you  have  done  and  are  doing  for  me,  it's  a  pity  if  I  can't 
give  you  one  evening  in  the  week.  You  are  looking  after 
other  people  in  New  York;  I'm  going  to  look  after  you; 
and  you  shall  find  that  I  am  a  sharp  inquisitor.  You  must 
reveal  enough  of  the  secrets  of  that  mysterious  office  of 
yours  to  satisfy  me  that  you  are  not  in  danger." 

He  soon  began  to  look  forward  with  glad  anticipation  to 
his  ramble  by  her  side  in  the  summer  twilight.  He  saw  that 
what  he  had  done  and  what  he  had  thought  during  the  week 
interested  her  deeply,  and  to  a  girl  of  her  intelligence  he  had 
plenty  to  tell  that  was  far  from  commonplace.  She  saw  the 
great  drama  of  her  country's  history  unfolding,  and  not  only 


88  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

witnessed  the  events  that  were  presented  to  the  world,  but 
was  taken  behind  the  scenes  and  shown  many  of  the  strange 
and  secret  causes  that  were  producing  them.  Moreover, 
expectation  of  something  larger  and  greater  was  constantly 
raised.  After  their  walk  they  would  return  to  the  house, 
and  she  would  sing  or  read  to  him  until  she  saw  his  eyes 
heavy  with  the  sleep  that  steals  gradually  and  refreshingly 
into  a  weary  man's  brain. 

Mrs.  Vosburgh  observed  this  new  companionship  with 
but  little  surprise  and  no  jealousy.  "It  was  time,"  she 
said,  "that  Marian  should  begin  to  do  something  for  her 
father,  and  not  leave  everything  to  me." 

One  thing  puzzled  Marian:  weeks  were  passing,  and  she 
neither  saw  nor  heard  anything  of  Lane  or  Strahan.  This 
fact,  in  view  of  what  had  been  said  at  parting,  troubled 
her.  She  was  not  on  calling  terms  with  the  latter's  fam- 
ily, and  therefore  was  unable  to  learn  anything  from  them. 
Even  his  male  friends  in  the  neighborhood  did  not  know 
where  he  was  or  what  he  was  doing.  Her  father  had  taken 
the  pains  to  inform  himself  that  Lane  was  apparently  at 
work  in  his  law-office  as  usual.  These  two  incipient  sub- 
jects of  the  power  she  hoped  to  wield  seemed  to  have 
dropped  her  utterly,  and  she  was   discouraged. 

On  the  last  day  of  June  she  was  taking  a  ramble  in  a 
somewhat  wild  and  secluded  place  not  far  from  her  home, 
and  thinking  rather  disconsolately  that  her  father  had  over- 
rated her  influence — that  after  all  she  was  but  a  pretty  and 
ordinary  girl,  like  millions  of  others — a  fact  that  Lane  and 
Strahan  had  at  last  discovered.  Suddenly  she  came  upon 
the  artist,  sketching  at  a  short  distance  from  her.  As  she 
turned  to  retreat  a  twig  snapped  under  her  foot,  revealing 
her  presence.  He  immediately  arose  and  exclaimed,  "Miss 
Vosburgh,  is  it  I  that  you  fear,  or  a  glimpse  of  my  picture?" 

41  Neither,  of  course.  I  feared  I  might  dispel  an  inspired 
mood.  Why  should  I  intrude,  when  you  have  nature  be- 
fore you  and  the  muse  looking  over  your  shoulder?" 

"Over  my  left  shoulder,  then,  with  a  mocking  smile= 


CHARMED    BY    A    CRITIC  89 

You  are  mistaken  if  you  fancy  you  can  harm  any  of  my 
moods.  Won't  you  stay  and  criticise  my  picture  for 
me?" 

"Why,  Mr.  Blauvelt,  I'm  not  an  art  critic." 

"Yes,  you  are — one  of  the  class  I  paint  for.  Our  best 
critics  are  our  patrons,  cultivated  people." 

"I  should  never  think  of  patronizing  you." 

"Perhaps  you  might  entertain  the  thought  of  encourag- 
ing me  a  little,  if  you  felt  that  I  was  worth  it." 

"Now,  Mr.  Blauvelt,  notwithstanding  the  rural  sur- 
roundings, }*ou  must  remember  that  I  was  bred  in  the 
city.  I  know  the  sovereign  contempt  that  you  artists 
have  for  the  opinions  of  the  people.  When  it  comes  to 
art,  I'm  only  people." 

"No  such  generalization  will  answer  in  your  case.  You 
have  as  distinct  an  individuality  as  any  flower  blooming  on 
this  hillside." 

"There  are  flowers  and  flowers.  Some  are  quite  com- 
mon." 

"None  are  commonplace  to  me,  for  there  is  a  genuine 
bit  of  nature  in  every  one.  Still  you  are  right:  I  was  con- 
scious of  the  fragrance  from  this  eglantine-bush  here,  until 
you  came. 

"Oh,  then  let  me  go  at  once." 

"I  beg  that  you  will  not.  You  are  the  eglantine  in  hu- 
man form,  and  often  quite  as  briery." 

"Then  you  should  prefer  the  bush  there,  which  gives 
you  its  beauty  and  fragrance  without  a  scratch.  But  truly 
your  comparison  is  too  far-fetched,  even  for  an  artist  or  a 
poet,  for  I  suppose  they  are  near  of  kin.  To  sensible,  mat- 
ter-of-fact girls,  nothing  is  more  absurd  than  your  idealiza- 
tion of  us.  See  how  quickly  and  honestly  I  can  disenchant 
you.  In  the  presence  of  both  nature  and  art  I  am  conscious 
that  it  is  nearly  lunch- time.  You  are  far  from  your  board- 
ing-place, so  come  and  take  your  luck  with  us.  Mamma 
will  be  glad  to  see  you,  and  after  lunch  I  may  be  a  more 
amiable  critic." 


90  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"As  a  critic,  I  do  not  wish  you  to  be  amiable,  but  hon- 
est severity  itself.  That  you  stumbled  upon  me  accident- 
ally in  your  present  mood  is  my  good  fortune.  Tell  .me 
the  faults  in  my  picture  in  the  plainest  English,  and  I  will 
gratefully  accept  your  invitation;  for  the  hospitality  at  your 
cottage  is  so  genial  that  bread  and  cheese  would  be  a  ban- 
quet. I  have  a  strong  fancy  for  seeing  my  work  through 
your  eyes,  and  so  much  faith  in  you  that  I  know  you  will 
tell  me  what  you  think,  since  I  ask  you  to  do  so. " 

"Why  have  you  faith  in  me?"  she  asked,  with  a  quick, 
searching  glance. 

"I  belong  somewhat  to  the  impressionist  school,  and  my 
impression  of  you  leads  to  my  words." 

"If  you  compel  me  to  be  honest,  I  must  say  I'm  not 
capable  of  criticising  your  picture.  I  know  little  of  art, 
and  nothing  of  its  technique.''1 

"Eyes  like  yours  should  be  able  to  see  a  great  deal,  and, 
as  I  said,  I  am  possessed  by  the  wish  to  know  just  what  they 
do  see.  There  is  the  scene  I  was  sketching,  and  here  the 
canvas.     Please,  Miss  Marian. " 

"It  will  be  your  own  fault,  now,  if  you  don't  like  what 
I  say,"  laughed  the  young  girl,  with  ready  tact,  for  a  quick 
glance  or  two  had  already  satisfied  her  that  the  picture  was 
not  to  her  taste.  "My  only  remark  is  this,  Mr.  Blauvelt — 
Nature  does  not  make  the  same  impression  on  me  that  it 
does  on  you.  There  is  the  scene,  as  you  say.  How  can  I 
make  you  understand  what  I  feel  ?  Nature  always  looks  so 
natural  to  me!  It  awakens  within  me  various  emotions, 
but  never  surprise — I  mean  that  kind  of  surprise  one  has 
when  seeing  a  lady  dressed  in  colors  that  do  not  harmon- 
ize. To  my  eye,  even  in  gaudy  October,  Nature  appears 
to  blend  her  effects  so  that  there  is  nothing  startling  or 
incongruous." 

"Is  there  anything  startling  and  incongruous  in  my 
picture?" 

"I  have  not  said  that.  You  see  you  have  brought  me 
into  perplexity,  you  have  taken  me  beyond  my  depth,  bv 


CHARMED    BY   A    CRITIC  91 

insisting  on  having  my  opinion.  I  have  read  a  good  many 
art  criticisms  first  and  last.  Art  is  gabbled  about  a  good 
deal  in  society,  you  know,  and  we  have  to  keep  a  set'  of 
phrases  on  hand,  whether  we  understand  them  or  not. 
But  since  you  believe  in  impressions,  and  will  have  mine, 
it  is  this  as  nearly  as  I  can  express  it.  You  are  under  the 
influence  of  a  school  or  a  fashion  in  art,  and  perhaps  un- 
consciously you  are  controlled  by  this  when  looking  at  the 
scene  there.  It  seems  to  me  that  if  I  were  an  artist  I  should 
trv  to  get  on  my  canvas  the  same  effects  that  nature  pro- 
duces, and  I  would  do  it  after  my  own  fashion  and  not 
after  some  received  method  just  then  prevailing.  Let  me 
illustrate  what  I  mean  by  a  phase  of  life  that  1  know  more 
about.  There  are  some  girls  in  society  whose  ambition  it 
is  to  dress  in  the  latest  style.  They  are  so  devoted  to  fash- 
ion that  they  appear  to  forget  themselves,  and  are  happy  if 
their  costume  reflects  the  mode  of  the  hour,  even  though  it 
makes  them  look  hideous.  My  aim  would  be  to  suggest  the 
style  rather  unobtrusively,  and  clothe  myself  becomingly. 
I'm  too  egotistical  to  be  ultra-fashionable.  Since  I,  who  am 
in  love  chiefly  with  myself,  can  so  modify  style,  much  more 
should  you,  who  are  devoted  to  nature,  make  fashion  in  art 
subservient  to  nature." 

"You  are  right.  I  have  worked  too  much  in  studios  and 
not  enough  out  of  doors.  Ever  since  I  have  been  sketching 
this  summer,  I  have  had  a  growing  dissatisfaction,  and  a 
sense  of  being  trammelled.  I  do  believe,  as  you  say,  that 
a  certain  received  method  or  fashion  of  treatment  has  been 
uppermost  in  my  mind,  and  I  have  been  trying  to  torture 
nature  into  conformity.  I'll  paint  this  thing  all  out  and 
begin  again." 

4 'No,  don't  do  that.  Are  not  pictures  like  people  a 
little?  If  I  wanted  to  improve  in  some  things,  it  wouldn't 
do  for  me  to  be  painted  all  out.  Cannot  changes  for  the 
better  come  by  softening  features  here  and  bringing  out 
others  there,  by  colorings  a  little  more  like  those  before  us, 
ancl — pardon  me — by  not  leaving  so  much  to  the  imagina- 


92  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

tion  ?     You  artists  can  see  more  between  the  lines  than  we 
people  can." 

"Let  me  try;"  and  with  eager  eyes  he  sat  down  before 
his  easel  again.  "Now  see  if  I  succeed  a  little,"  he  added, 
after  a  moment. 

His  whole  nature  appeared  kindled  and  animated  by 
hope.  He  worked  rapidly  and  boldly.  His  drawing  had 
been  good  before,  and,  as  time  passed,  nature's  sweet,  true 
face  began  to  smile  upon  him  from  his  canvas.  Marian 
grew  almost  as  absorbed  as  himself,  learning  by  actual  vis- 
ion how  quick,  light  strokes  can  reproduce  and  preserve  on 
a  few  square  inches  the  transitory  beauty  of  the  hour  and 
the  season. 

At  times  she  would  stimulate  his  effort  by  half-spoken 
sentences  of  satisfaction,  and  at  last  he  turned  and  looked 
up  suddenly  at  her  flushed,  interested  face. 

"You  are  the  muse,"  he  exclaimed,  impetuously,  "who, 
by  looking  over  my  shoulder,  can  make  an  artist  of 
me." 

She  instinctively  stepped  further  away,  saying,  deci- 
sively,   "Be  careful  then   to  regard  me  as  a  muse." 

She  had  replied  to  his  ardent  glance  and  tone,  even 
more  than  to  his  words.  There  was  not  a  trace  of  senti- 
ment in  her  clear,  direct  gaze.  The  quiet  dignity  and  re- 
serve of  her  manner  sobered  him  instantly.  Her  presence, 
her  words,  the  unexpected  success  in  the  new  departure 
which  she  had  suggested,  had  excited  him  deeply;  yet  a 
moment's  thought  made  it  clear  that  there  had  been  noth- 
ing on  her  part  to  warrant  the  hope  of  more  than  friendly 
interest.  This  interest  might  easily  be  lost  by  a  few  rash 
words,  while  there  was  slight  reason  that  he  should  ever 
hope  for  anything  more.  Then  also  came  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  straitened  circumstances  and  the  absurdity  of 
incurring  obligations  which  he  might  never  be  able  to 
meet.  He  had  assured  himself  a  thousand  times  that  art 
should  be  his  mistress,  yet  here  he  was  on  the  eve  of  act- 
ing like  a  fool  by  making  love  to  one  who  never  disguised 


CHARMED    BY   A    CRITIC  93 

her  expensive  tastes.  He  was  not  an  artist  of  the  olden 
school — all  romance  and  passion-— and  the  modishly  dressed, 
reserved  maiden  before  him  did  not,  in  the  remotest  degree, 
suggest  a  languishing  heroine  in  days  of  yore,  certain  to 
love  against  sense  and  reason.  The  wild,  sylvan  shade, 
the  June  atmosphere,  the  fragrance  of  the  eglantine,  even 
the  presence  of  art,  in  whose  potent  traditions  mood  is  the 
highest  law,  could  not  dispel  the  nineteenth  century  or 
make  this  independent,  clear-headed  American  girl  forget 
for  a  moment  what  was  sensible  and  right.  She  stood  there 
alone  under  the  shadow  of  the  chestnuts,  and  by  a  glance 
defined  her  rights,  her  position  toward  her  companion,  and 
made  him  respect  them.  Nor  was  he  headlong,  passionate, 
absurd.  He  was  a  part  of  his  age,  and  was  familiar  with 
New  York  society.  The  primal  instincts  of  his  nature  had 
obtained  ascendency  for  a  moment.  Ardent  words  to  the 
beautiful  girl  who  looked  over  his  shoulder  and  inspired  his 
touch  seemed  as  natural  as  breath.  She  had  made  herself 
for  the  moment  a  part  of  his  enthusiasm.  But  what  could 
be  the  sequel  of  ardent  words,  even  if  successful,  but  prosaic 
explanations  and  the  facing  of  the  inexorable  problem  of 
supporting  two  on  an  income  that  scarcely  sufficed  for  the 
Bohemian  life  of  one? 

He  had  sufficient  self-control,  and  was  mentally  agile 
enough  to  come  down  upon  his  feet.  Rising,  he  said, 
quietly:  "If  you  will  be  my  muse,  as  far  as  many  other 
claims  upon  your  time  and  thoughts  permit,  I  shall  be 
very  grateful.  I  have  observed  that  you  have  a  good 
eye  for  harmony  in  color,  and,  what  is  best  of  all,  I  have 
induced  you  to  be  very  frank.  See  how  much  you  have 
helped  me.  In  brief —  Bless  me!  how  long  have  you 
been  here?'' 

He  pulled  out  his  watch  in  comic  dismay,  and  held  it 
toward  her.  "No  lunch  for  us  to-day,"  he  concluded, 
ruefully. 

•Well,"  exclaimed  Marian,  laughing,  "this  is  the  first 
symptom  I  have  ever  had  of  being  an  artist.     It  was  quite 


94  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

natural  that  you  should  forget  the  needs  of  sublunary  mor- 
tals, but  that  I  should  do  so  must  prove  the  existence  of  an 
undeveloped  trait.  I  could  become  quite  absorbed  in  art 
if  I  could  look  on  and  see  its  wonders  like  a  child.  You 
must  come  home  with  me  and  take  your  chance.  If  lunch 
is  over,  we'll  forage." 

He  laughingly  shouldered  his  apparatus,  and  walked  by 
her  side  through  the  June  sunshine  and  shade,  she  in  the 
main  keeping  up  the  conversation.  At  last  he  said,  rather 
abruptly:  "Miss  Yosburgh,  you  do  not  look  on  like  a  child 
— rather,  with  more  intelligence  than  very  many  society 
girls  possess;  and — will  you  forgive  me? — you  defend 
yourself  like  a  genuine  American  woman.  I  have  lived 
abroad,  you  know,  and  have  learned  how  to  value  such 
women.  I  wish  you  to  know  how  much  I  respect  you, 
how  truly  I  appreciate  you,  and  how  grateful  and  honored 
I  shall  feel  if  you  will  be  simply  a  frank,  kind  friend. 
You  made  use  of  the  expression  'How  shall  I  make  you 
understand?'  So  I  now  use  it,  and  suggest  what  I  mean 
by  a  question — Is  there  not  something  in  a  man's  nature 
which  enables  him  to  do  better  if  some  woman,  in  whom 
he  believes,  shows  that  she  cares?" 

"I  should  be  glad  if  this  were  true  of  some  men,"  she 
said,  gently,  "because  I  do  care.  I'll  be  frank,  too.  Noth- 
ing would  give  me  a  more  delicious  sense  of  power  than  to 
feel  that  in  ways  I  scarcely  understood  I  was  inciting  my 
friends  to  make  more  of  themselves  than  they  would  if  they 
did  not  know  me.  If  I  cannot  do  a  little  of  what  you  sug- 
gest, of  what  account  am  I  to  my  friends?" 

"Your  friends  can  serve  a  useful  purpose  by  amusing 
you." 

"Then  the  reverse  is  true,  and  I  am  merely  amusing  to 
my  friends.  Is  that  the  gist  of  your  fine  words,  after  all  ?" 
and  her  face  flushed  as  she  asked  the  question. 

"No,  it  is  not  true,  Miss  Vosburgh.  You  have  the 
power  of  entertaining  your  friends  abundantly,  but  you 
could  make  me  a  better  artist,  and  that  with  me  would 


CHARMED    BY    A    CRITIC  95 

mean  a  better  man,  if  you  took  a  genuine  interest  in  my 
efforts. n 

"I  shall  test  the  truth  of  your  words,"  was  her  smiling 
response.  "Meanwhile  you  can  teach  me  to  understand 
art  better,  so  that  I  shall  know  what  I  am  talking  about" 
Then  she  changed  the  subject. 


96  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER   IX 
a  girl's  light  hand 

ON  the  evening  of  the  3d  of  July  Marian  drove  down 
in  her  phaeton  to  the  station  for  her  father,  and 
was  not  a  little  surprised  to  see  him  advancing 
toward  her  with  Mr.  Lane.  The  young  man  shook  hands 
with  her  cordially,  yet  quietly,  and  there  was  something 
in  his  expression  that  assured  her  of  the  groundlessness 
of  all  the  fears  she  had  entertained. 

"I  have  asked  Mr.  Lane  to  dine  with  us,"  said  her 
father.  "He  will  walk  over  from  the  hotel  in  the  course 
of  half  an  hour." 

While  the  gentlemen  had  greeted  her  smilingly,  there 
had  been  an  expression  on  their  faces  which  suggested  that 
their  minds  were  not  engrossed  by  anticipation  of  a  holiday 
outing.  Marian  knew  well  what  it  meant.  The  papers  had 
brought  to  every  home  in  the  land  the  tidings  of  the  awful 
seven  days'  fighting  before  Richmond.  So  far  from  taking 
the  city,  McClellan  had  barely  saved  his  army.  Thousands 
of  men  were  dead  in  the  swamps  of  Chickahominy ;  thou- 
sands were  dying  in  the  sultry  heat  of  the  South  and  on  the 
malarial  banks  of  the  James. 

Mr.  Vosburgh's  face  was  sad  and  stern  in  its  expression, 
and  when  Marian  asked,  "Papa,  is  it  so  bad  as  the  papers 
say?"  he  replied:  "God  only  knows  how  bad  it  is.  For  a 
large  part  of  our  army  it  is  as  bad  as  it  can  be.  The  most 
terrible  feature  of  it  all  to  me  is  that  thick-headed,  blunder- 
ing men  are  holding  in  their  irresolute  hands  the  destinies 
of  just  such  brave  young  fellows  as  Mr.  Lane  here.  It  is 
not  so  dreadful  for  a  man  to  die  if  his  death  furthers  a  cause 


A    GIRLS    LIGHT   HAND  97 

which  he  belives  to  be  sacred,  but  to  die  from  the  sheer 
stupidity  and  weakness  of  his  leaders  is  a  bitter  thing. 
Instead  of  brave  action,  there  is  fatal  blundering  all  along 
the  line.  For  a  long  time  the  President,  sincere  and  true- 
hearted  as  he  is,  could  not  learn  that  he  is  not  a  military 
man,  and  he  has  permitted  a  large  part  of  our  armies  to  be 
scattered  all  over  Virginia.  They  have  accomplished  next 
to  nothing.  McClellan  long  since  proved  that  he  would  not 
advance  without  men  enough  to  walk  over  everything.  He 
is  as  heavy  as  one  of  his  own  siege  guns.  He  may  be  sure, 
if  he  has  all  he  wants,  but  is  mortally  slow,  and  hadn't 
brains  enough  to  realize  that  the  Chickahominy  swamps 
thinned  bis  army  faster  than  brave  righting.  He  should 
have  been  given  the  idle,  useless  men  under  McDowell  and 
others,  and  then  ordered  to  take  Richmond.  If  he  wouldn't 
move,  then  they  should  have  put  a  man  in  his  place  who 
would,  and  not  one  who  would  sit  down  and  dig.  At  last 
he  has  received  an  impetus  from  Richmond,  instead  of 
Washington,  and  he  has  moved  at  a  lively  pace,  but  to  the 
rear.  His  men  were  as  brave  as  men  could  be;  and  if  the 
courage  shown  on  the  retreat,  or  change  of  base,  as  some 
call  it,  had  been  manifested  in  an  advance,  weeks  ago, 
Richmond  would  have  been  ours.  The  'change  of  base' 
has  carried  us  well  away  from  the  point  attacked,  brave 
men  have  suffered  and  died  in  vain,  and  the  future  is  so 
clouded  that  only  one  thing  is  certain. ' ' 

4 'What  is  that,  papa?"  was  the  anxious  query. 

4 'We  must  never  give  up.  We  must  realize  that  we  are 
confronting  some  of  the  best  soldiers  and  generals  the  world 
has  known.  The  North  is  only  half  awake  to  its  danger  and 
the  magnitude  of  its  task.  We  have  sent  out  comparatively 
few  of  our  men  to  do  a  disagreeable  duty  for  us,  while  we 
take  life  comfortably  and  luxuriously  as  before.  The  truth 
will  come  home  to  us  soon,  that  we  are  engaged  in  a  life- 
and-death  struggle." 

i4Papa,  these  events  will  bring  no  changes  to  you?  In 
your  work,  I  mean?" 

Roe— VI— 5 


98  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

"Not  at  present.  I  truly  believe,  Marian,  that  I  can 
serve  my  country  more  effectively  in  the  performance  of 
the  duties  with  which  I  am  now  charged.  But  who  can  tell 
what  a  day  will  bring  forth  ?  Lane  is  going  to  the  front. 
He  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  He  is  a  manly  fellow,  and 
no  doubt  will  explain  why  you  have  not  heard  from  him." 

"Keal  life  has  come  in  very  truth,"  thought  Marian,  as 
she  went  to  her  room  to  prepare  for  dinner;  "but  on  every 
side  it  also  brings  the  thought  of  death." 

Her  face  was  pale,  and  clouded  with  apprehension,  when 
she  joined  the  gentlemen;  but  Lane  was  so  genial  and  en- 
tertaining at  dinner  as  to  make  it  difficult  for  her  to  believe 
that  he  had  resolved  on  a  step  so  fraught  with  risk.  When 
at  last  they  were  alone  in  the  drawing-room  she  said,  "Is  it 
true  that  you  intend  to  enter  the  army  ?" 

"Yes,  and  it  is  time  that  it  was  true,"  was  his  smiling 
reply. 

"I  don't  feel  like  laughing,  Mr.  Lane.  Going  to  Virginia 
does  not  strike  me  as  a  pleasure  excursion.  I  have  thought 
a  great  deal  since  1  saw  you  last.  You  certainly  have  kept 
your  promise  to  be  a  distant  and  absent  friend." 

He  looked  at  her  eagerly,  as  he  said,  ' '  You  have  thought 
a  great  deal — have  you  thought  about  me?" 

"Certainly,"  she  replied,  with  a  slight  flush;  "I  meant 
all  that  I  said  that  evening. ' ' 

That  little  emphasized  word  dispelled  the  hope  that  had 
for  a  moment  asserted  itself.  Time  and  a  better  acquaint- 
ance with  her  own  heart  had  not  brought  any  change  of 
feeling  to  her,  and  after  a  moment  he  said,  quietly:  "I  think 
I  can  prove  that  I  have  been  a  sincere  and  loyal  friend  as 
well  as  an  absent  one.  Having  never  felt — well,  you  can- 
not know — it  takes  a  little  time  for  a  fellow  to — pardon  me; 
let  all  that  go.  I  have  tried  to  gain  self-control,  and  I  have 
obeyed  your  request,  to  do  nothing  rash,  literally.  I  re- 
mained steadily  at  work  in  my  office  a  certain  number  of 
hours  every  day.  If  the  general  hope  that  Kichmond  would 
be  taken,  and  the  war  practically  ended,  had  proved  well 


A    GIRUS    LIGHT    HAND  99 

fouDded,  for  the  sake  of  others  I  should  have  resisted  my 
inclination  to  take  part  in  the  struggle.  I  soon  concluded, 
however,  that  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  prepare  for  what 
has  taken  place,  and  so  gave  part  of  my  afternoons  and 
evenings  to  a  little  useful  training.  I  am  naturally  very 
fond  of  a  horse,  and  resolved  that  if  I  went  at  all  it  should 
be  as  a  cavalryman,  so  I  have  been  giving  not  a  little  of  my 
time  to  horseback  exercise,  sabre,  pistol,  and  carbine  prac- 
tice, and  shall  not  be  quite  so  awkward  as  some  of  the  other 
raw  recruits.  I  construed  McCiellan's  retreat  into  an  order 
for  me  to  advance,  and  have  come  to  you  as  soon  as  I  could 
to  report  progress. " 

"Why  could  you  not  have  come  before  ?— why  could 
you  not  have  told  me?"  she  asked,  a  little  reproachfully. 

"Some  day  perhaps  you  will  know,"  he  replied,  turning 
away  for  a  moment. 

"I  feared  that  maturer  thought  had  convinced  you  that 
I  could  not  be  much  of  a  friend — that  I  was  only  a  gay 
young  girl  who  wouldn't  appreciate  an  earnest  man's 
purposes." 

"Miss  Marian,  you  wrong  me  in  thinking  that  I  could 
so  wrong  you.  Never  for  a  moment  have  I  entertained 
such  a  thought.  I  can't  explain  to  you  ail  my  experience. 
I  wished  to  be  more  sure  of  myself,  to  have  something 
definite  to  tell  you,  that  would  prove  me  more  worthy  of 
your  friendship. " 

"My  faith  in  you  has  never  faltered  a  moment,  Mr.  Lane. 
While  your  words  make  me  proud  indeed,  they  also  make 
me  very  sad.  I  don't  wonder  that  you  feel  as  you  do  about 
going,  and  were  I  a  man  I  should  probably  take  the  same 
course.  But  I  am  learning  at  last  what  this  war  means. 
I  can't  with  a  light  heart  see  my  friends  go." 

"Let  it  be  with  a  brave  heart,  then.  There  are  tears  in 
your  eyes,  Miss  Marian." 

"Why  should  there  not  be?  Oh,  Mr.  Lane,  I  am  not 
cold-hearted  and  callous.  I  am  not  so  silly  and  shallow 
as  I  seemed." 


100  Afl    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"I  never  thought  you  so — " 

By  a  gesture  she  stopped  him,  as  she  continued:  "I  rec- 
ognized the  expression  on  papa's  face  and  yours  the  moment 
I  saw  you,  and  I  know  what  it  means." 

"Yes,  Miss  Marian;  and  I  recognize  the  expression  on 
your  face.  Were  you  a  man  you  would  have  gone  before 
this." 

"I  think  it  would  be  easier  to  go  than  to  stay  and  think 
of  all  one's  friends  must  face."' 

41  Of  course  it  would  be  for  one  like  you.  You  must  not 
look  on  the  dark  side,  however.  You  will  scarcely  find  a 
jollier  set  of  men  than  our  soldiers." 

"I  fear  too  many  are  reckless.  This  you  have  promised 
me  not  to  be. ' ' 

tkI  shall  keep  my  promise;  but  a  soldier  must  obey 
orders,  you  know.  Oh,  Miss  Marian,  it  makes  such  a  dif- 
ference with  me  to  know  that  you  care  so  much!  Knowing 
you  as  I  do  now,  it  would  seem  like  black  treason  to  do  or 
be  anything  unmanly." 

Callers  were  now  announced,  and  before  an  hour  had 
passed  there  were  half  a  dozen  or  more  young  men  in 
the  drawing-room.  Some  were  staying  at  the  hotel,  but 
the  majority  were  from  the  villas  in  the  neighborhood,  the 
holiday  season  permitting  the  return  of  those  in  business. 
However  dark  and  crimson  might  be  the  tide  of  thought 
that  flowed  through  the  minds  of  those  present,  in  memory 
of  what  had  occurred  durmg  the  last  few  days,  the  light 
of  mirth  played  on  the  surface.  The  times  afforded  themes 
for  jest,  rather  than  doleful  predictions.  Indeed,  in  accord- 
ance with  a  principle  in  human  nature,  there  was  a  ten- 
dency to  disguise  feelings  and  anxiety  by  words  so  light 
as  to  border  on  recklessness.  Questions  as  to  future  action 
were  coming  home  to  all  the  young  men,  but  not  for  the 
world  would  they  permit  one  another,  or  especially  a 
spirited  young  girl,  to  suspect  that  they  were  awed,  or 
made  more  serious  even,  by  the  thought  that  the  battle 
was   drawing    nearer   to  them.     Lane  was  a  leader  in  the 


A    GIRVS    LIGHT    HAND  101 

gayety.  His  presence  was  regarded  by  some  vvith  both 
surprise  and  surmise.  It  had  been  thought  that  he  had 
disappeared  finally  below  Miss  Vosburgh's  horizon,  but  his 
animated  face  and  manner  gave  no  indication  of  a  rejected 
and  despondent  suitor. 

The  mirth  was  at  its  height  when  Strahan  entered, 
dressed  plainly  in  the  uniform  of  a  second  lieutenant.  He 
was  greeted  with  a  shout  of  laughter  by  the  young  men, 
who  knew  him  well,  and  by  a  cordial  pressure  from  Marian's 
hand.  This  made  the  gantlet  which  he  knew  he  must  run 
of  little  consequence  to  him.  All  except  Lane  drew  up  and 
gave  him  a  military  salute. 

"Pretty  fair  for  the  awkward  squad,"  he  remarked, 
coolly. 

"Come,  report,  report,"  cried  several  voices;  "where 
have  you  been?" 

"In  Virginia." 

"Why,  of  course,  fellows,  he's  been  arranging  the 
change  of  base  with  McClellan,  only  the  army  went  south 
and  he  came  north." 

"I've  been  further  south  than  any  of  you." 

"See  here,  Strahan,  this  uniform  is  rather  new  for  a 
veteran's. " 

"Yes;  never  dealt  in  old  clothes." 

"Where's  your  command?" 

"Here,  if  you'll  all  enlist.  I  think  I  could  make  sol- 
diers of  some  of  you." 

"Why,  fellows,  what  a  chance  for  us.  If  Strahan  can't 
teach  us  the  etiquette  of  war,  who  can?" 

"Yes,  gentlemen;  and  I  will  give  you  the  first  rule  in 
advance.     Always  face  the  music." 

"Dance  music,  you  mean.  Strahan  has  been  at  West 
Point  and  knows  that  a  fellow  in  civilian  togs  stands  no 
chance.  How  he  eclipses  us  all  to-night  with  the  insignia 
of  rank  on  his  shoulders!  Where  will  you  make  head- 
quarters ?" 

' '  At  home,  for  the  present  ' ' 


102  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

44*ThatV  right.  '  We  knew  you  would  hit  upon  the  true 
theory  of  campaigning.  Never  was  there  a  better  strategic 
point  for  your  operations,  Strahan,  than  the  banks  of  the 
Hudson." 

"I  shall  try  to  prove  you  right.  A  recruiting  sergeant 
will  join  me  in  a  day  or  two,  and  then  I  can  accommodate 
you  all  with  muskets." 

1 '  All  ?     Not  Miss  Marian  ?' ' 

''Those  possessing  her  rank  and  influence  do  not  carry 
muskets." 

41  Come,  fellows,  let  us  celebrate  the  4th  by  enlisting 
under  Strahan,"  cried  the  chief  spokesman,  who  was  not  a 
very  friendly  neighbor  of  the  young  officer.  44It  won't  be 
long  before  we  shall  know  all  the  gossip  of  the  Confed- 
eracy. ' ' 

4 'You  will  certainly  have  to  approach  near  enough  to 
receive  some  very  direct  news." 

"Gentlemen,"  cried  Marian,  "a  truce!  Mr.  Strahan  has 
proved  that  he  can  face  a  hot  fire,  and  send  back  good  shots, 
even  when  greatly  outnumbered.  I  have  such  faith  in  him 
that  I  have  already  given  him  my  colors.  You  may  take 
my  word  for  it  that  he  will  render  a  good  account  of  him- 
self.    I  am  now  eager  to  hear  of  his  adventures." 

"I  haven't  had  any,  Miss  Marian.  What  I  said  about 
Virginia  was  mere  bluff — merely  made  an  excursion  or  two 
on  the  Virginia  side  of  the  Potomac,  out  of  curiosity." 

"But  what  does  this  uniform  mean?" 

"Merely  what  it  suggests.  I  went  to  Washington,  which 
is  a  great  camp,  you  know.  Through  relatives  I  had  some 
influence  there,  and  at  last  obtained  a  commission  at  the 
bottom  of  the  ladder  in  a  new  regiment  that  is  to  be  re- 
cruited. Meanwhile  I  was  put  through  the  manual  of 
arms,  with  a  lot  of  other  awkward  fellows,  by  a  drill  offi- 
cer. I  kept  shady  and  told  my  people  to  be  mum  until 
something  came  out  of  it  all.  Come,  fellows,  thirteen  dol- 
lars a  month,  hard  tack,  and  glory!  Don't  all  speak  at 
once!" 


A    GIRL'S    LIGHT    HAXD  103 

"I'm  with  you  as  far  as  going  is  concerned,"  said  Lane, 
shaking  Strahan's  hand  warmly,  "only  I've  decided  on  the 
cavalry." 

"Were  I  a  man,  you  should  have  one  recruit  for  your 
regiment  to-night,"  said  Marian.  "Yon  have  gone  to  work 
in  a  way  that  inspires  confidence." 

"I  foresee,  fellows,  that  we  shall  all  have  to  r^j  -  :lse 
Miss  Marian  will  cross  us  out  of  her  books,"  rem___i  one 
of  the  young  men. 

"No,  indeed,"  she  replied.  "I  would  not  dare  urge  any 
one  to  go.  But  those  who,  like  Mr.  Lane  and  Mr.  Strahan, 
decide  the  question  for  themselves,  cannot  fail  to  carry  my 
admiration  with  them." 

"That's  the  loudest  bugle  call  I  expect  to  hear,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Elauvelt,  who  entered  at  that  moment. 

"Here's  the  place  to  open  your  recruiting-office,"  added 
another,  laughing.  "If  Miss  Marian  would  be  free  with  her 
colors,  she  could  raise  a  brigade." 

"I  can  assure  you  beforehand  that  I  shall  not  be  free 
with  tbem;  much  less  will  I  hold  them  out  as  an  induce- 
ment.    Slight  as  may  be  their  value,  they  must  be  earned." 

"What  chivalrous  deed  has  Strahan  performed?"  was 
asked,  in  chorus. 

"One  that  I  appreciate,  and  I  don't  give  my  faith  lightly." 

"Mr.  Strahan,  I  congratulate  you,"  said  Lane,  with  a 
swift  and  somewhat  reproachful  glance  at  Marian;  "you 
have  already  achieved  your  best  laurels." 

"I've  received  them,  but  not  earned  them  yet.  Miss 
Marian  gives  a  fellow  a  good  send-off,  however,  and  time 
will  tell  the  story  with  us  all.  I  must  now  bid  you  good- 
evening, "  he  said  to  the  young  girl.  "I  merely  stopped 
for  a  few  moments  on  my  way  from  the  train." 

She  followed  him  to  the  door,  and  said,  sotto  voce,  "You 
held  your  own  splendidly.  Your  first  report  is  more  than 
satisfactory;"  and  he  departed  happier  than  any  major-gen- 
eral in  the  service. 

When  the  rest  had  gone,  Lane,  who  had  persistently  lin- 


104  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

gered,  began:  "No  doubt  it  will  appear  absurd  to  you  that 
a  friend  should  be  jealous.  But  Strahan  seems  to  have  won 
the  chief  honors." 

"Perhaps  he  has  deserved  them,  Mr.  Lane.  I  know  what 
your  opinion  of  him  was,  and  I  think  you  guessed  mine. 
E:  *L„.  ~on  the  chief  battle  of  life — victory  over  himself. 
Ever  sio:  j  I  have  known  you,  you  have  inspired  my  respect 
as  a  strong,  resolute  man.  In  resolving  upon  what  you  would 
do  instinctively  Mr.  Strahan  has  had  such  a  struggle  that  he 
has  touched  my  sympathies.  One  cannot  help  feeling  dif- 
ferently toward  different  friends,  you  know.  Were  I  in 
trouble,  I  should  feel  that  I  could  lean  upon  you.  To  en- 
courage and  sustain  would  always  be  my  first  impulse  with 
Mr.  Strahan.     Are  you  content?" 

"I  should  try  to  be,  had  I  your  colors  also." 

'"Oh,  I  only  gave  him  a  rose.     Do  you  want  one  ?" 

"Certainly." 

"Well,  now  you  are  even,"  she  said,  laughing,  and  hand- 
ing him  one  of  those  she  wore. 

He  looked  at  it  thoughtfully  for  a  moment,  and  then  said, 
quietly:  "Some  would  despise  this  kind  of  thing  as  the  mer- 
est sentiment.  With  others  it  would  influence  the  sternest 
at  :icn  and  the  supreme  moments  of  life. 


WILLARD    MERWYN  105 


CHAPTER   X 

WILLARD    MERWYN 

DURING  her  drives  Mari;.-_i  had  cften  passed  the  en- 
trance to  one  of  the  finest  old  places  in  the  vicin- 
ity, and,  although  aware  that  the  family  was  absent 
in  Europe,  she  had  observed  that  the  fact  made  no  differ- 
ence in  the  scrupulous  care  of  that  portion  of  the  grounds 
which  was  visible.  The  vista  from  the  road,  however,  was 
soon  lost  among  the  boles  and  branches  of  immense  over- 
shadowing oaks.  Even  to  the  passer-by  an  impression  of 
seclusion  and  exclusion  was  given,  and  Marian  at  last  noted 
that  no  reference  was  made  to  the  family  in  the  social  ex- 
changes of  her  little  drawing-room.  The  dwelling  to  which 
the  rather  stiff  and  stately  entrance  led  was  not  visible  from 
the  car- windows  as  she  passed  to  and  from  the  city,  so  ab- 
rupt was  the  intervening  bluff,  but  upon  one  occasion  from 
the  deck  of  a  steamboat  she  had  caught  glimpses  through  the 
trees  of  a  large  and  substantial  brick  edifice. 

Before  Strahan  had  disappeared  for  a  time,  as  we  have 
related,  her  slight  curiosity  had  so  far  asserted  itself  that 
she  had  asked  for  information  concerning  the  people  who 
left  their  beautiful  home  untenanted  in  June. 

'lI  fancy  I  can  tell  you  more  about  them  than  most 
people  in  this  vicinity,  but  that  is  not  so  very  much.  The 
place  adjoins  ours,  and  as  a  boy  I  fished  and  hunted  with 
Willard  Merwyn  a  good  deal.  Mrs.  Merwyn  is  a  widow 
and  a  Southern- bred  woman.  A  Northern  man  of  large 
wealth  married  her,  and  then  she  took  her  revenge  on  the 


106  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

rest  of  the  North  by  having  as  little  to  do  with  it  as  pos- 
sible.  She  was  said  to  own  a  large  property  in  the  South- 
plantation,  negroes,  and  all  that.  The  place  on  the  Hud- 
son belonged  to  the  Merwyn  side  of  the  house,  and  the 
family  have  only  spent  a  few  summers  here  and  have  been 
exclusive  and  unpopular.  My  mother  made  their  acquaint- 
ance abroad,  and  they  knew  it  would  be  absurd  to  put  on 
airs  with  us;  so  the  ladies  of  the  two  families  have  ex- 
changed more  or  less  formal  visits,  but  in  the  main  they 
have  little  to  do  with  the  society  of  this  region.  As  boys 
Willard  and  myself  did  net  :are  a  fig  for  these  things,  and 
became  very  good  friends,  i  have  not  seen  him  for  several 
years;  they  have  all  been  abroad;  and  1  hear  that  he  has 
become  an  awful  swell." 

"Why  then,  if  he  ever  returns,  you  and  he  will  be  good 
friends  again,"  Marian  had  laughingly  replied,  and  had  at 
once  dismissed  the  exclusive  Merwyns  from  her  mind. 

On  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  July  Strahan  had  come 
over  to  have  a  quiet  talk  with  Marian,  and  had  found  Mr. 
Lane  there  before  him.  By  feminine  tactics  peculiarly  her 
own,  Marian  had  given  them  to  understand  that  both  were 
on  much  the  same  footing,  and  that  their  united  presence 
did  not  form  "a  crowd";  and  the  young  men,  having  a 
common  ground  of  purpose  and  motive,  were  soon  at  ease 
together,  and  talked  over  personal  and  military  matters  with 
entire  freedom,  amusing  the  young  girl  with  accounts  of 
their  awkwardness  in  drill  and  of  the  scenes  they  had  wit- 
nessed. She  was  proud  indeed  of  her  two  knights,  as  she 
mentally  characterized  them— so  different,  yet  both  now 
inspiring  a  genuine  liking  and  respect.  She  saw  that  her 
honest  good-will  and  admiration  were  evoking  their  best 
manhood  and  giving  them  as  much  happiness  as  she  would 
ever  have  the  power  to  bestow,  and  she  felt  that  her  scheme 
of  life  was  not  a  false  one.  They  understood  her  fully,  and 
knew  that  the  time  had  passed  forever  when  she  would 
amuse  herself  at  their  expense.  She  had  become  an  in- 
spiration of  manly  endeavor,  and  had  ceased  to  be  the  ob- 


W1LLARD    MERWYN  107 

▼ect  of  a  lover's  pursuit.  If  half- recognized  hopes  lurked 
in  their  hearts,  the  fulfilment  of  these  must  be  left  to  time. 

"By  the  way,"  remarked  Strahan,  as  he  was  taking  his 
leave,  "I  hear  that  these  long-absent  Merwyns  have  deigned 
to  return  to  their  native  land — for  their  own  rather  than  their 
country's  good  though,  I  fancy.  I  suppose  Mrs.  Merwyn 
feels  that  it  is  time  she  looked  after  her  property  and  main- 
tained at  least  the  semblance  of  loyalty.  I  also  hear  that 
they  have  been  hob-nobbing  with  the  English  aristocracy, 
who  look  upon  us  Yankees  as  a  'blasted  lot  of  cads,  you 
know.'  Shall  I  bring  young  Merwyn  over  to  see  you  after 
he  arrives  ?" 

"As  you  please,"  she  replied,  with  an  indifferent 
shrug. 

Strahan  had  a  half-formed  scheme  in  his  mind,  but  when 
he  called  upon  young  Merwyn  he  was  at  first  inclined  to 
hesitate.  Great  as  was  his  confidence  in  Marian,  he  had 
some  vaguely  jealous  fears,  more  for  the  young  girl  than 
for  himself,  in  subjecting  her  to  the  influence  of  the  man 
that  his  boyhood's  friend  had  become. 

Willard  Merwyn  was  a  "swell"  in  Strahan's  vernacular, 
bat  even  in  the  early  part  of  their  interview  he  gave  the  im- 
pression of  being  something  more,  or  rather  such  a  superior 
type  of  the  "swell""  genus,  that  Marian's  friend  was  con- 
scious of  a  fear  that  the  young  girl  might  be  dazzled  and 
interested,  perhaps  to  her  sorrow. 

Merwyn  had  developed  into  a  broad-shouldered  man, 
nearly  six  feet  in  height.  His  quiet,  courteous  elegance 
did  not  disguise  from  one  who  had  known  him  so  well  in 
boyhood  an  imperious,  self-pleasing  nature,  and  a  tenacity 
of  purpose  in  carrying  out  his  own  desires.  He  accepted  of 
his  quondam  friend's  uniform  without  remark.  That  was 
Strahan's  affair  and  not  his,  and  by  a  polite  reserve,  he 
made  the  mercurial  fellow  feel  that  his  affairs  were  his 
own.  Strahan  chafed  under  this  polished  reticence,  this 
absence  of  all  curiosity. 

"Blast  him!"  thought  the  young  officer,  "he  acts  like  a 


108  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

superior  being,  who  has  deigned  to  visit  America  to  look 
after  his  rents,  and  intimates  that  the  country  has  no  fur- 
ther concern  with  him  or  he  with  it.  Jove!  I'd  give  all  the 
pay  I  ever  expect  to  get  to  see  him  a  rejected  suitor  of  my 
plucky  little  American  girl;"  and  he  regarded  his  host  with 
an  ill-disposed  eye.  At  last  he  resolved  to  take  the  initia- 
tive boldly. 

"How  long  do  you  expect  to  remain  here,  Merwyn?" 

"I  scarcely  know.  It  depends  somewhat  on  my  mother's 
plans. ' ' 

"Thunder!  It's  time  you  had  plans  of  your  own,  espe- 
cially when  a  man  has  your  length  of  limb  and  breadth  of 
chest." 

"I  have  not  denied  the  possession  of  plans,"  Merwyn 
quietly  remarked,  his  dark  eye  following  the  curling,  up- 
ward flight  of  smoke  from  his  cigar. 

"You  certainly  used  to  be  decided  enough  sometimes, 
when  I  wanted  you  to  pull  an  oar." 

"And  you  so  good-naturedly  let  me  off,"  was  the  reply, 
with  a  slight  laugh. 

"I  didn't  let  you  off  good-naturedly,  nor  do  I  intend  to 
now.  Good  heavens,  Merwyn!  don't  you  read  the  papers? 
There's  a  chance  now  to  take  an  oar  to  some  purpose.  You 
were  brave  enough  as  a  boy." 

Merwyn' s  eyes  came  down  from  the  curling  smoke  to 
Strahan's  face  with  a  flash,  and  he  rose  and  paced  the  room 
for  a  moment,  then  said,  in  his  old  quiet  tones,  "They  say 
the  child  is  father  of  the  man." 

"Oh,  well,  Merwyn,"  was  the  slightly  irritable  rejoinder, 
"I  have  and  ever  had,  you  remember,  a  way  of  expressing 
my  thoughts.  If,  while  abroad,  you  have  become  intolerant 
of  that  trait,  why,  the  sooner  we  understood  each  other  the 
better.  I  don't  profess  to  be  anything  more  than  an  Ameri- 
can, and  I  called  to-day  with  no  other  motive  than  the  ob- 
vious and  natural  one." 

A  shade  of  annoyance  passed  over  Merwyn's  face,  but 
as  Strahan  ceased  he  came  forward  and  held  out  his  hand, 


WILLARD    MERWYN  109 

saying:  "I  like  you  all  the  better  for  speaking  jour  thoughts 
— for  doing  just  as  you  please.  You  must  be  equally  fair 
and  yield  to  me  the  privilege  of  keeping  my  thoughts,  and 
doing  as  I  please." 

Strahan  felt  that  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  take  the 
proffered  hand,  so  irresistible  was  the  constraint  of  his  host's 
courtesy,  although  felt  to  be  without  warmth  or  cordiality. 
Disguising  his  inward  protest  by  a  light  laugh  he  said:  "I 
could  shake  hands  with  almost  any  one  on  such  a  mutual 
understanding.  Well,  since  we  have  begun  on  the  basis  of 
such  absolute  frankness  on  my  part,  my  next  thought  is, 
What  shall  be  our  relations  while  you  are  here?  lama 
busier  fellow  than  I  was  at  one  time,  and  my  stay  is  also 
uncertain,  and  sure  to  be  brief.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  un- 
neighborly  in  remembrance  of  old  times,  nor  do  I  wish  to 
be  obtrusive.  In  the  natural  order  of  things,  I  should  show 
you,  a  comparative  stranger,  some  attention,  inform  }tou 
about  the  natives  and  transient  residents,  help  you  amuse 
yourself,  and  all  that.  But  I  have  not  the  slightest  desire 
to  make  unwelcome  advances.  I  have  plenty  of  such  in 
pro5pect  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line." 

Merwyn  laughed  with  some  heartiness  as  he  said:  "You 
have  attained  one  attribute  of  a  soldier  assuredly — blunt- 
ness  Positively,  Strahan,  you  have  developed  amazingly. 
Why,  only  the  other  day  we  were  boys  squabbling  to  deter- 
mine who  should  have  the  first  shot  at  an  owl  we  saw  in 
the  mountains.  The  result  was,  the  owl  took  flight.  You 
never  gave  in  an  inch  to  me  then,  and  I  liked  you  all  the 
better  for  it.  Come  now,  be  reasonable.  I  yield  to  you  your 
full  right  to  be  yourself;  yield  as  much  to  me  and  let  us 
begin  where  we  left  off,  with  only  the  differences  that  years 
have  made,  and  we  shall  get  on  as  well  as  ever." 

''Agreed,"  said  Strahan,  promptly.  "Now  what  can  I 
do  for  you?     I  have  only  certain  hours  at  my  disposal." 

"Well,"  replied  Merwyn,  languidly,  "come  and  see  me 
when  you  can,  and  I'll  walk  over  to  your  quarters — I  sup- 
pose I  should  so   call  them — and  have  a  smoke  with  you 


110  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

occasionally.     I  expect  to  be  awfully  dull  here,  but  between 
the  river  and  the  mountains  ]  shall  have  resources." 
"You  propose  to  ignore  society  then?" 
"Why  say  'ignore'?     That  implies  a  conscious  act.     Let 
us  suppose  that  society  is  as  indifferent  to  me  as  I  to  it." 

"There's  a  little  stutterer  down  at  the  hotel  who  claims 
to  be  an  English  lord." 

"Bah,  Strahan!  I  hope  your  sword  is  sharper  than  your 
satire.  I've  had  enough  of  English  lords  for  the  present." 
"Yes,  Merwyn,  you  appear  to  have  had  enough  of  most 
things — perhaps  too  much.  If  your  countrymen  are  unin- 
teresting, you  may  possibly  wish  to  meet  some  of  your 
countrywomen.  I've  been  abroad  enough  to  know  that 
you  have  never  found  their  superiors." 

"Well,   that  depends  upon  who  my  countrywoman   is. 
I  should  prefer  to  see  her  before  I  intrude—" 
"Risk  being  bored,  you  mean." 

"As  you  please.  Fie,  Strahan!  you  are  not  cultivating 
a  soldier's  penchant  for  women?" 

"It  hasn't  needed  any  cultivating.  I  have  my  opinion 
of  a  man  who  does  not  admire  a  fine  woman." 

"So  have  I,  only  each  and  all  must  define  the  adjective 
for  themselves. 

"It  has  been  defined  for  me.  Well,  my  time  is  up. 
We'll  be  two  friendly  neutral  powers,  and,  having  marked 
out  our  positions,  can  maintain  our  frontiers  with  diplomatic 
ease.     Good-morning." 

Merwyn  laughingly  accompanied  his  guest  to  the  door, 
but  on  the  piazza  they  met  Mrs.  Merwyn,  who  involuntarily 
frowned  as  she  saw  Strahan's  uniform,  then  with  quiet  ele- 
gance she  greeted  the  young  man.  But  he  had  seen  her  ex- 
pression, and  was  somewhat  formal. 

"We  shall  hope  to  see  your  mother  and  sisters  before 
long,"  the  lady  remarked. 

Strahan  bowed,  and  walked  with  military  erectness  down 
the  avenue,  his  host  looking  after  him  with  cynical  and 
slightly  contemptuous  good- nature;  but  Mrs.  Merwyn  fol- 


W1LLARD    MEBWYN  111 

lowed  the  receding  figure  with  an  expression  of  great 
bitterness. 

Her  appearance  was  that  of  a  remarkable  woman.  She 
was  tall,  and  slight;  every  motion  was  marked  by  grace, 
but  it  was  the  grace  of  a  person  accustomed  to  command. 
One  would  never  dream  of  woman's  ministry  when  looking 
at  her.  Far  more  than  would  ever  be  true  of  Marian  she 
suggested  power,  but  she  would  govern  through  her  will, 
her  pride  and  prejudices.  The  impress  of  early  influences 
had  sunk  deep  into  her  character.  The  only  child  of  a 
doting  father,  she  had  ruled  him,  and,  of  course,  the  help- 
less slaves  who  had  watched  her  moods  and  trembled  at  her 
passion.  There  were  scars  on  human  backs  to-day,  which 
were  the  results  of  orders  from  her  girlish  lips.  She  was 
not  greatly  to  blame.  Born  of  a  proud  and  imperious  an- 
cestry, she  had  needed  the  lessons  of  self-restraint  and  gen- 
tleness from  infancy.  Instead,  she  had  been  absolute,  even 
in  the  nursery;  and  as  her  horizon  had  widened  it  had  re- 
vealed greater  numbers  to  whom  her  will  was  law.  From 
childhood  she  had  passed  into  maidenhood  with  a  dower 
of  wealth  and  beauty,  learning  early,  like  Marian,  that 
many  of  her  own  race  were  willing  to  become  her  slaves. 

In  the  South  there  is  a  chivalric  deference  to  women  far 
exceeding  that  usually  paid  to  the  sex  at  the  North,  and 
her  appearance,  temperament,  and  position  evoked  that 
element  to  the  utmost.  He  knows  little  of  human  nature 
who  cannot  guess  the  result.  Yet,  by  a  common  contradic- 
tion, the  one  among  her  many  suitors  who  won  such  love  as 
she  could  give  was  a  Northern  man  as  proud  as  herself. 
He  stood  alone  in  his  manner  of  approach,  made  himself  the 
object  of  her  thoughts  by  piquing  her  pride,  and  met  her 
varying  moods  by  a  quiet,  unvarying  dignity  that  com- 
pelled her  respect.  The  result  was  that  she  yielded  to  the 
first  man  who  would  not  yield  undue  deference  to  her. 

Mr.  Merwyn  employed  his  power  charily,  however,  or 
rather  with  principle.  He  quietly  insisted  on  his  rights; 
but  as  he  granted  hers  without  a  word,  and  never  irritated 


112  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

her  by  small,  fussy  exactions,  good- breeding  prevented  any 
serious  clashing  of  wills,  and  their  married  life  had  passed 
in  comparative  serenity.  As  time  elapsed  her  will  began, 
in  many  ways,  to  defer  to  his  quieter  and  stronger  will,  and 
then,  as  if  life  must  teach  her  that  there  is  no  true  control 
except  self-control,  Mr.  Merwyn  died,  and  left  her  mistress 
of  almost  everything  except  herself. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  her  self-will  was 
a  passionate,  moody  absolutism.  She  had  outgrown  that, 
and  was  too  well-bred  ever  to  show  much  temper.  The 
tendency  of  her  mature  purposes  and  prejudices  was  to 
crystallize  into  a  few  distinct  forms.  With  the  feminine 
logic  of  a  narrow  mind,  she  made  her  husband  an  excep- 
tion to  the  people  among  whom  he  had  been  born  and 
bred.  Widowed,  she  gave  her  whole  heart  to  the  South. 
Its  institutions,  habits,  and  social  code  were  sacred,  and  all 
opponents  thereof  sacrilegious  enemies.  To  that  degree  that 
they  were  hostile,  or  even  unbelieving,  she  hated  them. 

During  the  years  immediately  preceding  the  war  she  had 
been  abroad  superintending  the  education  of  Willard  and 
two  younger  daughters,  and  when  hostilities  began  she  was 
led  to  believe  that  she  could  serve  the  cause  better  in  Eng- 
land than  on  her  remote  plantation.  In  her  fierce  partisan- 
ship, or  rather  perverted  patriotism— for  in  justice  it  must 
be  said  that  she  knew  no  other  country  than  the  South— she 
was  willing  to  send  her  son  to  Kichmond.  He  thwarted  this 
purpose  by  quietly  manifesting  one  of  his  father's  traits. 

4lNo,"  he  said,  "I  will  not  fight  against  the  section  to 
which  my  father  belonged.  To  my  mind  it's  a  wretched 
political  squabble  at  best,  and  the  politicians  will  settle  it 
before  long.  I  have  my  life  before  me,  and  don't  propose 
to  be  knocked  on  the  head  for  the  sake  of  a  lot  of  political 
John  Smiths,  North  or  South." 

In  vain  she  tried  to  fire  his  heart  with  dreams  of  Southern 
empire.  He  had  made  up  that  part  of  himself  derived  from 
Northern  birth — his  mind — and  would  not  yield.  Meantime 
his  Southern,  indolent,  pleasure-loving  side  was  appealed  to 


WILLARD    MERWYN  113 

powerfully  by  aristocratic  life  abroad,  and  he  felt  it  would 
be  the  sheerest  foll}r  to  abandon  his  favorite  pursuits.  He 
was  little  more  then  than  a  graceful  animal,  shrewd  enough 
to  know  that  his  property  was  chiefly  at  the  North,  and  that 
it  would  be  unwise  to  endanger  it. 

Mrs.  Merwyn's  self-interest  and  natural  affection  led  her 
to  yield  to  necessity  with  fairly  good  grace.  The  course  re- 
solved upon  by  Willard  preserved  her  son  and  the  prop- 
erty. When  the  South  had  accomplished  its  ambitious 
dreams  she  believed  she  would  have  skill  enough  to  place 
him  high  among  its  magnates,  while,  if  he  were  killed  in 
one  of  the  intervening  battles — well,  she  was  loyal  enough 
to  incur  the  risk,  but  at  heart  she  did  not  deeply  regret  that 
she  had  escaped  the  probable  sacrifice. 

Thus  time  passed  on,  and  she  used  her  social  influence 
in  behalf  of  her  section,  but  guardedly,  lest  she  should 
jeopardize  the  interests  of  her  children.  In  May  of  the 
year  in  which  our  story  opened,  the  twenty-first  birthday 
of  Willard  occurred,  and  was  celebrated  with  befitting  cir- 
cumstance. He  took  all  this  quietly,  but  on  the  morning  of 
the  day  following  he  said  to  his  mother: 

"You  remember  the  provisions  of  my  father's  will.  My 
share  of  the  property  was  to  be  transferred  to  me  when  I 
should  become  of  age.  We  ought  to  return  to  New  York 
at  once  and  have  the  necessary  papers  made  out." 

In  vain  she  protested  that  the  property  was  well  man- 
aged, that  the  income  was  received  regularly,  that  he  could 
have  this,  and  that  it  would  be  intensely  disagreeable  for 
her  to  visit  New  York.  He,  who  had  yielded  indifferently 
to  all  her  little  exactions,  was  inexorable,  and  the  proud, 
self-willed  woman  found  that  he  had  so  much  law  and  rea- 
son on  his  side  that  she  was  compelled  to  submit. 

Indeed,  she  at  last  felt  that  she  had  been  unduly  gov- 
erned by  her  prejudices,  and  that  it  might  be  wise  to  go  and 
see  for  themselves  that  their  affairs  were  managed  to  the 
best  advantage.  Deep  in  her  heart  was  also  the  conscious- 
ness that  it  was  her  husband's  indomitable  will  that  she  was 


114  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

carrying  out,  and  that  she  could  never  escape  from  that 
will  in  any  exigency  where  it  could  justly  make  itself  felt. 
She  therefore  required  of  her  son  the  promise  that  their 
visit  should  be  as  unobtrusive  as  possible,  and  that  he 
would  return  with  her  as  soon  as  he  had  arranged  matters 
to  his  mind.  To  this  he  had  readily  agreed,  and  they  were 
now  in  the  land  for  which  the  mother. had  only  hate  and  the 
son  indifference. 


AN    OATH   AJSD   A    GLANCE  115 


CHAPTER   XI 

AN    OATH   AND   A   GLANCE 

AS  STRAHAN  disappeared  in  the  winding  of  the 
avenue  a  sudden  and  terrible  thought  occurred  to 
Mrs.  Merwyn.  She  glanced  at  her  sod,  who  had 
walked  to  the  further  end  of  the  piazza  and  stood  for  a 
moment  with  his  back  toward  her.  His*manly  proportions 
made  her  realize,  as  she  had  never  done  before,  that  he 
had  attained  his  majority — that  he  was  his  own  master. 
fie  had  said  he  would  not  fight  against  the  North,  but,  as 
far  as  the  South  was  concerned,  he  had  never  committed 
himself.     And  then  his  terrible  will! 

She  went  to  her  room  and  thought.  He  was  in  a  land 
seething  with  excitement  and  patriotic  fervor.  She  knew 
not  what  influences  a  day  might  bring  to  bear  upon  him. 
Above  all  else  she  feared  taunts  for  lack  of  courage.  She 
knew  that  her  own  passionate  pride  slept  in  his  breast  and 
on  a  few  occasions  she  had  seen  its  manifestations.  As  a 
rule  he  was  too  healthful,  too  well  organized  and  indolent^ 
to  be  easily  irritated,  while  in  serious  matters  he  had  not 
been  crossed.  She  knew  enough  of  life  to  be  aware  that  his 
manhood  had  never  been  awakened  or  even  deeply  moved, 
and  she  was  eager  indeed  to  accomplish  their  mission  in  the 
States  and  return  to  conditions  of  life  not  so  electrical. 

In  the  meantime  she  felt  that  she  must  use  every  pre- 
caution. She  summoned  a  maid  and  asked  that  her  son 
should  be  sent  to  her. 

The  young  man  soon  lounged  in,  and  threw  himself  into 
an  easy-chair. 


116  Ai\    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

His  mother  looked  at  him  fixedly  for  a  moment,  and  then 
asked-,  ''Why  is  young  Strahan  in  that  uniform?" 

"I  didn't  ask  him,"  was  the  careless  reply.  "Obviously, 
however,  because  he  has  entered  the  service  in  some 
capacity. ' ' 

"Did  he  not  suggest  that  it  would  be  a  very  proper 
thing  for  you  to  do,  also?" 

"Oh,  of  course.  He  wouldn't  be  Strahan  if  he  hadn't. 
He  has  a  high  appreciation  of  a  'little  brief  authority,'  espe- 
cially if  vested  in  himself.  Believing  himself  to  be  so  heroic 
he  is  inclined  to  call  others  to  account." 

"I  trust  you  have  rated  such  vaporings  at  their  worth." 

''I  have  not  rated  them  at  all.  What  do  I  care  for  little 
Strahan  or  his  opinions  ?     Nil. ' ' 

"Shall  you  see*  much  of  him  while  we  are  compelled 
to  remain  in  this  detestable  land?" 

"More  of  him  than  of  any  one  else,  probably.  We  were 
boys  together,  and  he  amuses  me.  What  is  more  to  the 
point,  if  I  make  a  Union  officer  my  associate  I  disarm  hos- 
tile criticism  and  throw  an  additional  safeguard  around  my 
property.  There  is  no  telling  to  what  desperate  straits  the 
Northern  authorities  may  be  reduced,  and  I  don't  propose 
to  give  them  any  grounds  for  confiscation." 

"You  are  remarkably  prudent,  Willard,  for  a  young  man 
of  Southern  descent." 

"I  am  of  Northern  descent  also,"  he  replied,  with  a  light 
laugh.  "Father  was  as  strong  a  Northern  man — so  I  im- 
agine— as  you  are  a  Southern  woman,  and  so,  by  a  natural 
law,  I  am  neutral,  brought  to  a  standstill  by  two  equal  and 
opposite  forces." 

The  intense  partisan  looked  at  him  with  perplexity,  and 
for  a  moment  felt  a  strange  and  almost  superstitious  belief 
in  his  words.  Was  there  a  reciprocal  relation  of  forces 
which  would  render  her  schemes  futile  ?  She  shared  in  the 
secret  hopes  and  ambitions  of  the  Southern  leaders.  Had 
Northern  and  Southern  blood  so  neutralized  the  heart  of 
this  youth  that  he  was  indifferent  to  both  sections  ?    and 


AN    OATH    AND    A    GLANCE  117 

had  she,  by  long  residence  abroad,  and  indulgence,  made 
him  so  cosmopolitan  that  he  merely  looked  upon  the  world 
as  "his  oyster"  ?  She  was  not  the  first  parent  who,  having 
failed  to  instil  noble,  natural  principles  in  childhood,  is  sur- 
prised and  troubled  at  the  outcome  of  a  mind  developing 
under  influences  unknown  or  unheeded.  That  the  South 
would  be  triumphant  she  never  doubted  a  moment.  It 
would  not  merely  achieve  independence,  but  also  a  power 
that  would  grow  like  the  vegetation  of  its  genial  climate, 
and  extend  until  the  tapering  Isthmus  of  Panama  became 
the  national  boundary  of  the  empire.  But  what  part  would 
be  taken  by  this  strange  son  who  seemed  equally  endowed 
with  graceful  indolence  and  indomitable  will?  Were  his 
tireless  strength  and  energy  to  accomplish  nothing  better 
than  the  climbing  of  distant  mountains?  and  would  he 
maintain  indifference  toward  a  struggle  for  a  dominion  be- 
yond Oriental  dreams  ?  Physically  and  mentally  he  seemed 
capable  of  doing  what  he  chose;  practically  he  chose  to  do 
what  he  pleased  from  hour  to  hour.  Amusing  himself  with 
a  languid,  good-natured  disregard  of  what  he  looked  upon 
as  trivial  affairs,  he  was  like  adamant  the  moment  a  supreme 
and  just  advantage  was  his.  He  was  her  husband  over 
again,  with  strange  differences.  What  could  she  do  at  the 
present  moment  but  the  thing  she  proposed  to  do  ?" 

"Willard,"  she  said,  slowly,  and  in  a  voice  that  pierced 
his  indifference,  "have  you  any  regard  for  me?" 

"Certainly.     Have  I  shown  any  want  of  respect?" 

"That  is  not  the  question  at  all.  You  are  young,  Wil- 
?ard,  and  you  live  in  the  future.  I  live  much  in  the  past. 
My  early  home  was  in  the  South,  where  my  family,  for 
generations,  has  been  eminent.  Is  it  strange,  then,  that 
I  should  love  that  sunny  land?" 

"No,  mamma." 

4 'Well,  all  I  ask  at  present  is  that  you  will  promise  me 
never,  under  any  motive,  to  take  up  arms  against  that  land 
of  my  ancestors." 

"I  have  not  the  slightest  disposition  to  do  so." 


118  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Willard,  what  to-day  is,  is.  Neither  you  nor  I  know 
what  shall  be  on  the  morrow.  I  never  expected  to  marry 
a  Northern  man,  yet  I  did  so;  nor  should  I  regret  it  if  I 
consulted  my  heart  only.  He  was  different  from  all  his 
race.  I  did  not  foresee  what  was  coming,  or  I  could  have 
torn  my  heart  out  before  involving  myself  in  these  North- 
ern complications.  I  cannot  change  the  past,  but  I  must 
provide  for  the  future.  Oh,  Willard,  to  your  eyes  your 
Northern  fortune  seems  large.  But  a  few  years  will  pass 
before  you  will  be  shown  what  a  trifle  it  is  compared  with 
the  prizes  of  power  and  wealth  that  will  be  bestowed  upon 
loyal  Southerners.  You  have  an  ancestry,  an  ability,  that 
would  naturally  place  you  among  the  foremost.  Terrible 
as  would  be  the  sacrifice  on  my  part,  I  could  still  give  you 
my  blessing  if  you  imitated  young  Strahan  in  one  respect, 
and  devoted  yourself  heart,  soul,  and  sword  to  our  cause." 

"The  probable  result  would  be  that  you  and  my  sisters 
would  be  penniless,  I  sleeping  in  mud,  and  living  on  junk 
and  hoe-cake.  Another  result,  probable,  only  a  little  more 
remote,  is  that  the  buzzards  would  pick  my  bones.  Faugh ! 
Oh,  no.  I've  settled  that  question,  and  it's  a  bore  to  think 
a  question  over  twice.  There  are  thousands  of  Americans 
in  Europe.  Their  wisdom  suits  me  until  this  tea-pot  tem- 
pest is  over.  If  any  one  doubts  my  courage  I'll  prove  it 
fast  enough,  but,  if  I  had  my  way,  the  politicians,  North 
and  South,  should  do  their  own  fighting  and  starving." 

"But,  Willard,  our  leaders  are  not  mere  politicians. 
They  are  men  of  grand,  far-reaching  schemes,  and  when 
their  plans  are  accomplished,  they  will  attain  regal  power 
and  wealth." 

"Visions,  mamma,  visions.  I  have  enough  of  my  fa- 
ther's blood  in  my  veins  to  be  able  to  look  at  both  sides 
of  a  question.  Strahan  asked  me  severely  if  I  did  not  read 
the  papers;"  and  he  laughed  lightly.  "Well,  I  do  read 
them,  at  least  enough  of  them  to  pick  out  a  few  grains  of 
truth  from  all  the  chaff.  The  North  and  South  have  begun 
fighting  like  two  bull-dogs,  and  it's  just  a  question  which 


AN  OATH  AND   A    GLANCE  H9 

has  the  longer  wind  and  the  more  endurance.  The  chances 
are  all  in  favor  of  the  North.  I  shall  not  throw  myself  and 
property  away  for  the  sake  of  a  bare  possibility.  That's 
settled." 

"Have  you  ice- water  in  your  veins  ?"  his  mother  asked, 
passionately. 

4 'I  have  your  blood,  madam,  and  my  father's,  hence 
I  am  what  I  am." 

"Well,  then  you  must  be  a  man  of  honor,  of  your 
word.  Will  you  promise  never  to  take  arms  against  the 
South?" 

"I  have  told  you  I  have  no  disposition  to  do  so." 

"The  promise,  then,  can  cost  you  little,  and  it  will  be  a 
relief  to  my  mind." 

"Oh,  well,  mamma,  if  it  will  make  you  feel  any  easier, 
1  promise  with  one  exception.  Both  South  and  North  must 
keep  their  hands  off  the  property  my  father  gave  me." 

"If  Southern  leaders  were  dictating  terms  in  New  York 
City,  as  they  will,  ere  long,  they  would  never  touch  your 
property." 

"They  had  better  not." 

"You  know  what  I  mean,  Willard.  I  ask  you  never 
to  assume  this  hated  Northern  uniform,  or  put  your  foot 
on  Southern  soil  with  a  hostile  purpose." 

"Yes,  I  can  promise  that." 

"Swear  it  to  me  then,  by  your  mother's  honor  and  your 
father's  memory." 

"Is  not  my  word  sufficient?" 

"These  things  are  sacred  to  me,  and  I  wish  them  treated 
in  a  sacred  manner.  If  you  will  do  this  my  mind  will  be 
at  rest  and  I  may  be  able  to  do  more  for  you  in  the  future." 

"To  satisfy  you,  I  swear  never  to  put  on  the  Northern 
uniform  or  to  enter  the  South  with  a  hostile  purpose." 

She  stepped  forward  and  touched  his  forehead  with  her 
lips,  as  she  said:  "The  compact  is  sealed.  Your  oath  is 
registered  on  earth  and  in  heaven.  Your  simple  word  as 
a  man  of  honor  will  satisfy   me  as  to  one  other  request. 


120  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

I  wish  you  never  to  speak  to  any  one  of  this  solemn  cove- 
nant between  us." 

"I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  gossiping  over  family  affairs," 
he  replied,  haughtily. 

"1  know  that,  and  also  that  your  delicacy  of  feeling 
would  keep  you  from  speaking  of  a  matter  so  sacred  to 
me.  But  1  am  older  and  more  experienced  than  you,  and 
I  shall  feel  safer  if  you  promise.  You  would  not  gossip 
about  it,  of  course.  You  might  refer  to  it  to  some  friend 
or  to  the  woman  who  became  your  wife.  I  can  foresee 
complications  which  might  make  it  better  that  it  should  be 
utterly  unknown.  You  little  know  how  I  dream  and  plan 
for  you,  and  I  only  ask  you  never  to  speak  of  this  interview 
and  its  character  to  a  living  soul." 

''Certainly,  mother,  I  can  promise  this.  I  should  feel 
it  small  business  to  babble  about  anything  which  you  take 
so  to  heart.  These  visions  of  empire  occupy  your  mind  and 
do  no  harm.  I  only  hope  you  will  meet  your  disappoint- 
ment philosophically.     Good-by  now  till  lunch." 

"Poor  mamma!"  thought  the  young  man,  as  he  started 
out  for  a  walk;  "she  rails  against  Northern  fanatics,  forget- 
ting that  it  is  just  possible  to  be  a  little  fanatical  on  the 
Southern  side  of  the  line." 

As  he  strode  along  in  the  sunshine  his  oath  weighed 
upon  him  no  more  than  if  he  had  promised  not  to  go  out 
in  his  sail- boat  that  day. 

At  last,  after  surmounting  a  rather  steep  hill,  he  threw 
himself  on  the  grass  under  the  shade  of  a  tree.  "It's  going 
to  be  awfully  slow  and  stupid  here,"  he  muttered,  "and  it 
will  be  a  month  or  two  before  we  can  return.  I  hoped  to 
be  back  in  time  to  join  the  Montagues  in  climbing  Mont 
Blanc,  and  here  I  am  tied  up  between  these  mole-hill  moun- 
tains and  city  law-omces.  How  shall  I  ever  get  through 
with  the  time?" 

A  pony-phaeton,  containing  two  ladies,  appeared  at  the 
foot  ot  the  hill  and  slowly  approached.  His  eyes  rested 
on  it  in  languid   indifference,    but,   as  it  drew  nearer,  the 


AN    OATH   AND    A    GLANCE  121 

younger  of  the  two  ladies  fixed  his  attention.  Her  charm- 
ing summer  costume  at  first  satisfied  his  taste,  and,  as  her 
features  became  distinct,  he  was  surprised  at  their  beauty, 
as  he  thought  at  first;  but  he  soon  felt  that  animation  re- 
deemed the  face  from  mere  prettiness.  The  young  girl  was 
talking  earnestly,  but  a  sudden  movement  of  the  horse 
caused  her  to  glance  toward  the  roadside,  and  she  encoun- 
tered the  dark  eyes  of  a  stranger.  Her  wTords  ceased  in- 
stantly. A  slight  frown  contracted  her  brow,  and,  touching 
her  horse  with  her  whip,  she  passed  on  rapidly. 

"By  Jove!  Strahan  is  right.  If  I  have  many  such 
countrywomen  in  the  neighborhood,  I  ought  to  find 
amusement." 

He  rose  and  sauntered  after  the  phaeton,  and  saw  that 
it  turned  in  at  a  pretty  little  cottage,  embowered  in  vines 
and  trees.  Making  a  mental  note  of  the  locality,  he  bent 
his  steps  in  another  direction,  laughing  as  he  thought: 
"From  that  one  glance  I  am  sure  that  those  blue  eyes  will 
kindle  more  than  one  fellow  before  they  are  quenched.  I 
wonder  if  Strahan  knows  her.  Well,  here,  perhaps,  is  a 
chance  for  a  summer  lark.  If  Strahan  is  enamored  I'd  like 
to  cut  him  out,  for  by  all  the  fiends  of  dulness  I  must  find 
something  to  do." 

Strahan  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  lunch  at  the  Vos- 
burghs'  that  day,  and  arrived,  hot  and  flushed,  from  his 
second  morning's  drill. 

"Well!"  he  exclaimed,  "I've  seen  the  great  Mogul" 

"I  believe  I  have  also, "  replied  Marian.  "Has  he  not 
short  and  slightly  curly  hair,  dark  eyes,  and  an  impudent 
stare?" 

"I  don't  recognize  the  'stare'  exactly.  Merwyn  is  polite 
enough  in  his  way,  and  confound  his  way!  But  the  rest  of 
your  description  tallies.     Where  did  you  see  him?" 

She  explained. 

"That  was  he,  accomplishing  his  usual  day's  work.  Oh, 
ye  dogs  of  war!  how  I  would  like  to  have  him  in  my  squad 
one  of  these  July  days!     Miss  Marian,  I'd  wear  your  shoe- 

Roe— VI— 6 


122  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

tie  in  my  cap  the  rest  of  my  life,  if  you  would  humble  that 
fellow  and  make  him  feel  that  he  never  spoke  to  a  titled 
lady  abroad  who  had  not  her  equal  in  some  American  girl. 
It  just  enrages  me  to  see  a  New  York  man,  no  better  born 
than  myself,  putting  on  such  superior  and  indifferent  airs. 
If  he'd  come  to  me  and  say,  'Strahan,  I'm  a  rebel,  I'm  going 
to  fight  and  kill  you  if  I  can,'  I'd  shake  hands  with  him  as 
I  did  not  to-day.  I'd  treat  him  like  a  jolly,  square  fellow, 
until  we  came  face  to  face  in  a  fair  fight,  and  then — the  for- 
tune of  war.  As  it  was,  I  felt  like  taking  him  by  the  collar 
and  shaking  him  out  of  his  languid  grace.  He  told  me  to 
mind  my  own  business  so  politely  that  I  couldn't  take 
offence,  although  he  gave  scarcely  any  other  reason  than 
that  he  proposed  to  mind  his.  When  I  met  his  Southern 
mother  on  the  piazza,  she  looked  at  me  in  my  uniform  at 
first  as  if  I  had  been  a  toad.  They  are  rebels  at  heart,  and 
yet  they  stand  aloof  and  sneer  at  the  North,  from  which 
they  derive  protection  and  revenue.  I  made  his  eyes  flash 
once  though,"  chuckled  the  young  fellow  in  conclusion. 

Marian  laughed  heartily  as  she  said:  "Mr.  Strahan,  if 
you  fight  as  well  as  you  talk,  I  foresee  Southern  reverses. 
You  have  no  idea  how  your  indignation  becomes  you.  4  As 
well-born,'  did  you  say?  Why,  my  good  friend,  you  are 
worth  a  wilderness  of  such  lackadaisical  fellows.  Ciphers 
don't  count  unless  they  stand  after  a  significant  figure; 
neither  do  such  men,  unless  stronger  men  use  them." 

"Your  arithmetic  is  at  fault,  Miss  Marian.  Ciphers  do 
have  the  power  of  pushing  a  significant  figure  way  back  to 
the  right  of  the  decimal  point,  and,  as  a  practical  fact,  these 
elegant  human  ciphers  usually  stand  before  good  men  aud 
true  in  society.  I  don't  believe  it  would  be  so  with  you, 
but  few  of  us  would  stand  a  chance  with  most  girls  should 
this  rich  American,  with  his  foreign  airs  and  graces,  enter 
the  lists  against  us." 

In  her  sincerity  and  earnestness,  she  took  his  hand  and 
said:  44I  thank  you  for  your  tribute.  You  are  right. 
Though   this   person   had   the   wealth   of   the   Indies,    and 


AN   OATH    AND    A    GLANCE  123 

every  external  grace,  he  could  not  be  my  friend  unless  he 
were  a  man.  I've  talked  with  papa  a  good  deal,  and  be- 
lieve there  are  men  in  the  Southern  army  just  as  honest 
and  patriotic  as  you  are;  but  no  cold-blooded,  selfish  be- 
twixt-and-betweens  shall  ever  take  my  hand." 

"Make  me  a  promise,"  cried  Strahan,  giving  the  hand  he 
held  a  hearty  and  an  approving  shake. 
"Well?" 

"If  opportunity  offers,  make  this  fellow  bite  the  dust." 
"We'll  see  about  that.     I  may  not  think  it  worth  the 
while,  and  I  certainly  shall  not  compromise  myself  in  the 
slightest  degree." 

"But  if  I  bring  him  here  you  will  be  polite  to  him  ?" 
"Just  about  as  polite  as  he  was  to  you,  I  imagine." 
"Miss  Marian,  I  wouldn't  have  any  harm  come  to  you 
for  the  wide  world.     If — if  anything  should  turn  out  amiss 
I'd  shoot  him,  I  certainly  would." 

The  girl's  only  answer  was  a  merry  peal  of  laughter. 


124  AiV    ORIGINAL    BELLU 


CHAPTER  XII 

"A   VOW" 

BENT,  as  was  Strahan,  upon  his  scheme  of  disturbing 
Merwyn's  pride  and  indifference,  he  resolved  to  per- 
mit several  days  to  pass  before  repeating  his  call. 
He  also,  as  well  as  Marian,  was  unwilling  to  compromise 
himself  beyond  a  certain  point,  and  it  was  his  hope  that 
he  might  receive  a  speedy  visit.  He  was  not  disappointed, 
for  on  the  ensuing  day  Merwyn  sauntered  up  the  Strahan 
avenue,  and,  learning  that  the  young  officer  had  gone  to 
camp,  followed  him  thither.  The  cold  glance  from  the 
fair  stranger  in  the  phaeton  dwelt  in  his  memory,  and  he 
was  pleased  to  find  that  it  formed  sufficient  incentive  to 
action. 

Strahan  saw  him  coming  with  a  grim  smile,  but  greeted 
him  with  off-hand  cordiality.  "Sorry,  Merwyn,"  he  said, 
14 1  can  give  you  only  a  few  moments  before  I  go  on  duty." 

44  You  are  not  on  duty  evenings  ?" 

"Yes,  every  other  evening." 

"How  about  to-night  ?" 

liAt  your  service." 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  the  people  who  reside  at  a 
cottage — "  and  he  described  Marian's  abode. 

44  Yes." 

44  Who  are  they?" 

44  Mr.  Vosburgh  has  rented  the  place  as  a  summer  resi- 
dence for  his  family.  His  wife  and  daughter  are  there  usu= 
ally,  and  he  comes  when  he  can." 

44 And  the  daughter's  name?" 


"A    VOW"  125 

"Miss  Marian  Vosburgh." 

"Will  you  introduce  me  to  her?" 

"Certainly." 

"I  shan't  be  poaching  on  your  grounds,  shall  I?" 

"Miss  Vosburgh  honors  me  with  her  friendship— nothing 
more." 

"Is  it  so  great  an  honor?" 

"I  esteem  it  as  such." 

"Who  are  they,  anyway?" 

"Well,  as  a  family  I  regard  them  as  my  equals,  and  Miss 
Marian  as  my  superior." 

"Oh,  come,  Strahan,  gossip  about  them  a  little." 

The  officer  burst  out  laughing.  "Well,"  he  said,  "for  a 
man  of  your  phenomenal  reticence  you  are  asking  a  good 
many  questions." 

Merwyn  colored  slightly  and  blundered:  "You  know  my 
motive,  Strahan ;  one  does  not  care  to  make  acquaintances 
that  are  not  quite — "  and  the  expression  of  his  host's  eyes 
checked  him. 

"I  assure  you  the  Vosburghs  are  'quite,'  "  Strahan  said, 
coldly.  "Did  I  not  say  they  were  my  equals?  You  may 
esteem  yourself  fortunate  if  Miss  Vosburgh  ever  permits 
you  to  feel  yourself  to  be  her  equal." 

"Why,  how  so?"  a  little  irritably. 

"Because  if  a  man  has  brains  and  discernment  the  more 
he  sees  of  her  the  more  will  he  be  inclined  to  doubt  his 
equality." 

Merwyn  smiled  in  a  rather  superior  way,  and,  with  a 
light  laugh,  said:  "[  understand,  Strahan.  A  man  in 
your  plight  ought  to  feel  in  that  way ;  at  least,  it  is  nat- 
ural that  he  should.  Now  see  here,  old  fellow,  I'll  keep 
aloof  if  you  say  so. ' ' 

"Why  should  you?  You  have  seen  few  society  queens 
abroad  who  received  so  much  and  so  varied  homage  as  Miss 
Vosburgh.  There  are  half  a  dozen  fellows  there,  more  or 
less,  every  evening,  and  you  can  take  your  chances  among 
them." 


126  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Oh,  she's  a  bit  of  a  coquette,  then  ?n 

"You  must  discover  for  yourself  what  she  is,"  said  the 
young  man,  buckling  on  his  sword  "She  has  my  entire 
respect. ' ' 

"You  quite  pique  my  curiosity.  I'll  drive  in  for  you 
this  evening." 

At  the  hour  appointed,  Strahan,  in  civilian's  dress, 
stepped  into  Merwyn's  carriage  and  was  driven  rapidly  to 
the  cottage.  Throwing  the  reins  to  a  footman,  the  young 
fellow  followed  the  officer  with  a  confidence  not  altogether 
well  founded,  as  he  soon  learned.  Many  guests  were  pres- 
ent, and  Lane  was  among  them.  When  Merwyn  was  pre- 
sented Marian  was  observed  to  bow  merely  and  not  give 
her  hand,  as  was  her  custom  when  a  friend  of  hers  intro- 
duced a  friend.  Some  of  the  residents  in  the  vicinity  ex- 
changed significant  smiles  when  they  saw  that  the  fastidi- 
ous and  exclusive  Willard  Merwyn  had  joined  their  circle. 
Mrs.  Vosburgh,  who  was  helping  to  entertain  the  guests, 
recognized  nothing  in  his  presence  beyond  a  new  social  tri- 
umph for  her  daughter,  and  was  very  gracious.  To  her  offi- 
ces, as  hostess,  he  found  himself  chiefly  relegated  for  a  time. 

This  suited  him  exactly,  since  it  gave  him  a  chance  for 
observation;  and  certainly  the  little  drawing-room,  with  its 
refined  freedom,  was  a  revelation  to  him.  Conversation,  re- 
partee, and  jest  were  unrestrained.  While  Lane  was  as  gay 
as  any  present,  Merwyn  was  made  to  feel  that  he  was  no  or- 
dinary man,  and  it  soon  came  out  in  the  natural  flow  of  talk 
that  he,  too,  was  in  the  service.  Merwyn  was  introduced 
also  to  a  captain  of  the  regular  army,  and,  whatever  he 
might  think  of  these  people,  he  instinctively  felt  that  they 
would  no  more  permit  themselves  to  be  patronized  than 
would  the  sons  of  noble  houses  abroad.  Indeed,  he  was 
much  too  adroit  to  attempt  anything  of  the  kind,  and,  with 
well-bred  ease,  made  himself  at  home  among  them  in  gen- 
eral conversation. 

Meanwhile,  he  watched  Marian  with  increasing  curios- 
ity.    To  him  she  was  a  new  and  very  interesting  type,     fie 


"A   vow"  127 

had  seen  no  such  vivacity  and  freedom  abroad,  and  his  ex- 
perience led  him  to  misunderstand  her.  "She  is  of  the 
genus  American  girl,  middle  class,"  he  thought,  "who,  by 
her  beauty  and  the  unconventionally  of  her  drawing-room, 
has  become  a  quasi- belle.  IS  one  of  these  men  would  think 
of  marrying  her,  unless  it  is  little  Strahan,  and  he  wouldn't 
five  years  hence.  Yet  she  is  piquant  and  fascinating  after 
her  style,  a  word  and  a  jest  for  each  and  all,  and  spoken 
with  a  sort  of  good- comradeship,  rather  than  with  an  if-you- 
please-sir  air.  1  must  admit,  however,  that  there  is  nothing 
loud  in  tone,  word,  or  manner.  She  is  as  delicate  and  re- 
fined as  her  own  beauty,  and,  although  this  rather  florid 
mamma  is  present  as  chaperon,  the  scene  and  the  actors  are 
peculiarly  American.  Well,  I  owe  Strahan  a  good  turn. 
I  can  amuse  myself  with  this  girl  without  scruple." 

At  last  he  found  an  opportunity  to  say,  "We  have  met 
once  before,  I  believe,  Miss  Yosburgh. " 

"Met?     Where?" 

"Where  I  was  inclined  to  go  to  sleep,  and  you  gave  me 
such  a  charming  frown  that  I  awakened  immediately  and 
took  a  long  ramble."  , 

"I  saw  a  person  stretched  at  lazy  length  under  the  trees 
yesterday.  You  know  the  horror  ladies  have  of  intoxicated 
men  on  the  roadside." 

"Was  that  the  impression  I  made?     Thanks." 

"The  impression  made  was  that  we  had  better  pass  as 
quickly  as  possible." 

"You  made  a  very  different  impression.  Thanks  to 
Strahan,  I  am  here  this  evening  in  consequence,  and  am 
delighted  that  I  came." 

"  'Delighted'  is  a  strong  word,  Mr.  Merwyn.  Now  that 
we  are  speaking  of  impressions,  mine  is  that  years  have 
elapsed  since  you  were  greatly  delighted  at  anything." 

"What  gives  you  such  an  impression  ?" 

"Women  can  never  account  for  their  intuitions." 

"Women?  Do  not  use  such  an  elderly  word  in  regard 
to  one  appearing  as  if  just  entering  girlhood." 


128  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Oh,  Mr.  Merwyn!  have  you  not  learned  abroad  that  girls 
of  my  age  are  elderly  indeed  compared  with  men  of  yours  ?" 

He  bit  his  lip.     "English  girls  are  not  so—" 

"Fast?" 

ltI  didn't  say  that.  They  certainly  have  not  the  vivac- 
ity and  fascination  that  I  am  discovering  in  your  drawing- 
room. " 

"Why,  Mr.  Merwyn!  one  would  think  you  had  come  to 
America  on  a  voyage  of  discovery,  and  were  surprised  at 
the  first  thiDg  you  saw." 

ktI  think  I  could  show  you  things  abroad  that  would  in- 
terest you. 

"All  Europe  could  not  tempt  me  to  go  abroad  at  this 
time.  In  your  estimation  I  am  not  even  a  woman— only  a 
girl,  and  yet  I  have  enough  girlhood  to  wish  to  take  my 
little  part  in  the  events  of  the  day." 

He  colored,  but  asked,  quietly,  "What  part  are  you 
taking?" 

"Such  questions,"  she  replied,  with  a  merry,  half -mock- 
ing flash  of  her  eyes,  "1  answer  by  deeds.  There  are  those 
who  know;"  and  then,  being  addressed  by  Mr.  Lane,  she 
turned  away,  leaving  him  with  confused,  but  more  decided 
sensations  than  he  had  known  for  a  long  time. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  leave  the  house,  but  this  course 
would  only  subject  him  to  ridicule  on  the  part  of  those  who 
remained.  After  a  moment  or  two  of  reflection  he  remem- 
bered that  she  had  not  invited  him,  and  that  she  had  said 
nothing  essentially  rude.  He  had  merely  chosen  to  occupy 
a  position  in  regard  to  his  country  that  differed  radically 
from  hers,  and  she  had  done  little  more  than  define  her 
position. 

"She  is  a  Northern,  as  mamma  is  a  Southern  fanatic, 
with  the  difference  that  she  is  a  young,  effervescing  crea- 
ture, bubbling  over  with  the  excitement  of  the  times,"  he 
thought.  "That  fellow  in  uniform,  and  the  society  of  men 
like  Strahan  and  Lane,  have  turned  her  head,  and  she  has 
not  seen  enough  of  life  to  comprehend  a  man  of  the  world. 


'A    VOW"  129 

W  hat  do  I  care  for  her,  or  any  here  ?  Her  briery  talk 
should  only  amuse  me.  When  she  learns  more  about  who 
I  am  and  what  I  possess  she  will  be  inclined  to  imitate  her 
discreet  mamma  and  think  of  the  main  chance;  meanwhile  I 
escape  a  summer's  dulness  and  ennui;'"  and  so  he  philoso- 
phically continued  his  observations  and  chatted  with  Mrs. 
V os burgh  and  others  until,  with  Strahan,  he  took  his  depar- 
ture, receiving  from  Marian  a  bow  merely,  while  to  Strahan 
she  gave  her  hand  cordially. 

"You  seem  to  be  decidedly  in  Miss  Vosburgh's  good 
graces,"  said  Merwyn,  as  they  drove  away. 

"I  told  you  she  was  my  friend." 

k'Is  it  very  difficult  to  become  her  friend  ?" 

"Well,  that  depends.  You  should  not  find  it  difficult, 
since  you  are  so  greatly  my  superior." 

'"Oh,  come.  Strahan. ' 

"Pardon  me.  I  forgot  I  was  to  express  only  my  own 
thoughts,  not  yours." 

,v  You  don't  know  my  thoughts  or  circumstances.  Come 
now,  let  us  be  good  comrades.  I  will  begin  by  thanking 
you  cordially  for  introducing  me  to  a  charming  young  girl. 
1  am  sure  I  put  on  no  airs  this  evening." 

"Taey  would  not  have  been  politic,  Merwyn,  and,  for 
the  life  of  ine,  I  can  see  no  reason  for  them. 

"Very  well.  Therefore  you  didn't  see  any.  How  like 
old  times  we  are!  We  were  always  together,  yet  always 
sparring  a  little." 

"You  must  take  us  as  we  are  in  these  times,"  said  Stra- 
han, with  a  light  laugh,  for  he  felt  it  would  jeopardize  his 
scheme,  or  hope  rather,  if  he  were  too  brusque  with  his 
companion.  "You  see  it  is  hard  for  us  to  understand 
your  cosmopolitan  indifference.  American  feeling  just 
now  is  rather  tense  on  both  sides  of  the  line,  and  if  you 
will  recognize  the  fact  you  will  understand  us  better." 

"1  think  1  am  already  aware  of  the  fact.  If  Miss  Vos- 
burgh  were  of  our  sex  you  would  soon  have  another 
recruit. " 


130  AJS    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"I'd  soon  have  a  superior  officer,  you  mean." 

"I  fancy  you  are  rather  under  her  thumb  already." 

"It's  a  difficult  position  to  attain,  I  assure  you." 

"How  so?" 

"I  have  observed  that,  toward  a  good  many,  Miss  Vos- 
burgh  is  quite  your  equal  in  indifference. " 

"I  like  her  all  the  better  for  that  fact." 

"So  do  I." 

"How  is  it  that  you  are  so  favored  ?" 

"No  doubt  it  seems  strange  to  you.  Mere  caprice  on  her 
part,  probably." 

"You  misunderstand  me.  I  would  like  to  learn  your 
tactics." 

"Jove!  I'd  like  to  teach  you.  Come  down  to-morrow 
and  I'll  give  you  a  musket." 

"You  are  incorrigible,  Strahan.  Do  you  mean  that  her 
good- will  can  be  won  only  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet?" 

"No  one  coached  me.  Surely  you  have  not  so  neglected 
your  education  abroad  that  you  do  not  know  how  to  win  a 
lady's  favor." 

"You  are  a  neutral,  indeed." 

"I  wouldn't  aid  my  own  brother  in  a  case  of  this  kind." 

"You  are  right;  in  matters  of  this  kind  it  is  every  one 
for  himself.  You  offered  to  show  me,  a  stranger,  some 
attention,  you  know." 

"Yes,  Merwyn,  and  I'll  keep  my  word.  I  will  give  you 
just  as  good  courtesy  as  I  receive.  The  formalities  have 
been  complied  with  and  you  are  acquainted  with  Miss 
Vosburgh.  You  have  exactly  the  same  vantage  that  I  had 
at  the  start,  and  you  certainly  cannot  wish  for  more.  If  you 
wish  for  further  introductions,  count  on  me." 

Merwyn  parted  from  his  plain-spoken  companion,  well 
content.  Strahan's  promise  to  return  all  the  courtesy  he 
received  left  a  variable  standard  in  Merwyn's  hands  that 
he  could  employ  according  to  circumstances  or  inclination. 
He  was  satisfied  that  his  neighbor,  in  accordance  with  a 
trait  very  common  to  young  men,  cherished  for  Miss  Vos- 


"A     VOW  131 

burgh  a  chivalric  and  sentimental  regard  at  which  he  would 
smile  when  he  became  older.  Merwyn,  however,  had  a  cer- 
tain sense  of  honor,  and  would  not  have  attempted  deliber- 
ately to  supplant  one  to  whom  he  felt  that  he  owed  loyalty. 
His  mind  having  been  relieved  of  all  scruples  of  this  char- 
acter, he  looked  forward  complacently  to  the  prospect  of 
winning — what  ?  He  did  not  trouble  himself  to  define  the 
kind  of  regard  be  hoped  to  inspire.  The  immediate  purpose 
to  kill  time,  that  must  intervene  before  he  could  return  to 
England,  was  sufficient.  There  was  promise  of  occupation, 
mild  excitement,  and  an  amusing  triumph,  in  becoming  the 
foremost  figure  in  Marian's  drawing-room. 

There  is  scarcely  need  to  dwell  upon  the  events  of  a  few 
subsequent  weeks  and  the  gradual  changes  that  were  taking 
place.  Life  with  its  small  vicissitudes  rarely  results  from 
deliberate  action.  Circumstances,  from  day  to  day,  color 
and  shape  it;  yet  beneath  the  rippling,  changing  surface 
a  great  tide  may  be  rising.  Strahan  was  succeeding  fairly 
well  in  his  recruiting  service,  and,  making  allowances  for 
bis  previous  history,  was  proving  an  efficient  officer.  Marian 
was  a  loyal,  steadfast  friend,  reprimanding  with  mirthful 
seriousness  at  times,  and  speaking  earnest  and  encouraging 
words  at  others.  After  all,  the  mercurial  young  fellow 
daily  won  her  increased  respect  and  esteem.  He  had  been 
promoted  to  a  captaincy,  and  such  was  the  response  of  the 
loyal  North,  during  that  dreary  summer  of  disaster  and 
confused  counsels,  that  his  company  was  nearly  full,  and  he 
was  daily  expecting  orders  for  departure.  His  drill  ground 
had  become  the  occasional  morning  resort  of  his  friends, 
and  each,  day  gave  evidence  of  improved  soldierly  bearing 
in  his  men. 

Merwyn  thus  far  had  characteristically  carried  out  his 
plans  to  "kill  time."  Thoroughly  convinced  of  his  com- 
parative superiority,  he  had  been  good-naturedly  tolerant 
of  the  slow  recognition  accorded  to  it  by  Marian.  Yet  he 
believed  he  was  making  progress,  and  the  fact  that  her 
favor  was  hard  to  win  was  only  the  more  incitement.     If 


132  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

she  had  shown  early  and  decided  preference  his  occupation 
would  have  been  gone;  for  what  could  he  have  done  in 
those  initiatory  weeks  of  their  acquaintance  if  her  eyes  and 
tones  had  said,  "I  am  ready  to  take  you  and  your  wealth"  ? 
The  attitude  she  maintained,  although  little  understood, 
awakened  a  kind  of  respect,  while  the  barriers  she  quietly 
interposed  aroused  a  keener  desire  to  surmount  them.  By 
hauteur  and  reserve  at  times  he  had  made  those  with  whom 
he  associated  feel  that  his  position  in  regard  to  the  civil 
conflict  was  his  own  affair.  Even  Marian  avoided  the  sub- 
ject when  talking  with  him,  and  her  mother  never  thought 
of  mentioning  it.  Indeed,  that  thrifty  lady  would  have  been 
rather  too  encouraging  had  not  her  daughter  taken  pains  to 
check  such  a  spirit.  At  the  same  time  the  young  girl  made 
it  emphatically  understood  that  discussion  of  the  events  of 
the  war  should  be  just  as  free  when  he  was  present  as  when 
he  was  absent. 

Yet  in  a  certain  sense  he  was  making  progress,  in  that 
he  awakened  anger  on  her  part,  rather  than  indifference. 
If  she  was  a  new  type  to  him  so  was  he  to  her,  and  she 
found  her  thoughts  reverting  to  him  in  hostile  analysis  of 
his  motives  and  character.  She  had  received  too  much  sin- 
cere homage  and  devotion  not  to  detect  something  cynical 
and  hollow  in  his  earlier  attentions.  She  had  seen  glances 
toward  her  mother,  and  had  caught  in  his  tones  an  estimate 
which,  however  true,  incensed  her  greatly.  Her  old  traits 
began  to  assert  themselves,  and  gradually  her  will  accorded 
with  Strahan's  hope.  If,  without  compromising  herself,  she 
could  humble  this  man,  bringing  him  to  her  feet  and  dis- 
missing him  with  a  rather  scornful  refusal,  such  an  exertion 
of  power  would  give  her  much  satisfaction.  Yet  her  pride, 
as  well  as  her  principle,  led  her  to  determine  that  he  should 
sue  without  having  received  any  misleading  favor  on  her 
part. 

Merwyn  had  never  proposed  to  sue  at  all,  except  in  the 
way  of  conventional  gallantry.  For  his  own  amusement  he 
had   resolved    to    become    her   most   intimate  and  familiar 


"A     VOW" 

friend,  and  then  it  would  be  time  to  go  abroad.  If  false 
hopes  were  raised  it  would  not  much  matter;  Strahan  or 
some  one  else  would  console  her.  He  admitted  that  his 
progress  was  slow,  and  her  reserve  hard  to  combat.  She 
would  neither  drive  nor  sail  with  him  unless  she  formed 
one  of  a  party.  Still  in  this  respect  he  was  on  the  same 
footing  with  her  best  friends.  One  thing  did  trouble  him, 
however;  she  had  never  given  him  her  hand,  either  in 
greeting  or  in  parting. 

At  last  he  brought  about  an  explanation  that  disturbed 
his  equanimity  not  a  little.  He  had  called  in  the  morning, 
and  she  had  chatted  charmingly  with  him  on  impersonal 
matters,  pleasing  him  by  her  intelligent  and  gracefully 
spoken  ideas  on  the  topics  broached.  As  a  society  girl  she 
met  him  on  this  neutral  ground  without  the  slightest  re- 
straint or  embarrassment.  As  he  also  talked  well  she  had 
no  scruple  in  enjoying  a  pleasure  unsought  by  herself, 
especially  as  it  might  lead  to  the  punishment  which  she 
felt  that  he  deserved.  Smilingly  she  had  assured  herself, 
when  he  was  announced,  "If  he's  a  rebel  at  heart,  as  I've 
been  told,  I've  met  the  enemy  before  either  Mr.  Lane  or 
Mr.  Strahan." 

When  Merwyn  rose  to  take  his  leave  he  held  out  his 
hand  and  said:  "I  shall  be  absent  two  or  three  days.  In 
saying  good-by  won't  you  shake  hands?" 

She  laughingly  put  her  hands  behind  her  back  and  said, 
"I  can't" 

4 'Will  not,  you  mean?" 

"No,  I  cannot.  I've  made  a  vow  to  give  my  hand  only 
to  my  own  friends  and  those  of  my  country." 

"Do  you  look  upon  me  as  an  enemy  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  indeed." 

"Then  not  as  a  friend?" 

1  Why,  certainly  not,  Mr.  Merwyn.  You  know  that  you 
are  not  my  friend.     What  does  the  word  mean  ?" 

"Well,"  said  he,  flushing,  "what  does  it  mean?" 
"Nothing  more  to  me  than  to  any  other  sincere  person. 


134  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

One  uses  downright  sincerity  with  a  friend,  and  would 
rather  harm  himself  than  that  friend." 

"Why  is  not  this  my  attitude  toward  you  ?" 

"You,  naturally,  should  know  better  than  L" 

"Indeed,  Miss  Yos burgh,  you  little  know  the  admiration 
you  have  excited,"  he  said,  gallantly. 

An  inscrutable  smile  was  her  only  response. 

"That,  however,  has  become  like  the  air  you  breathe, 
no  doubt." 

4 '  Not  at  all.  1  prize  admiration.  What  woman  does  not  ? 
But  there  are  as  many  kinds  of  admiration  as  there  are 
donors." 

"Am  I  to  infer  that  mine  is  of  a  valueless  nature  ?" 

"Ask  yourself,  Mr.  Merwyn,  just  what  it  is  worth." 

"It  is  greater  than  I  have  ever  bestowed  upon  any  one 
else,"  he  said,  hastily;  for  this  tilt  was  disturbing  his  self- 
possession. 

Again  she  smiled,  and  her  thought  was,  "Except  your- 
self." 

He,  thinking  her  smile  incredulous,  resumed:  ''You 
doubt  this?" 

"I  cannot  help  thinking  that  you  are  mistaken." 

"How  can  I  assure  you  that  I  am  not?" 

"1  do  not  know.  Why  is  it  essential  that  I  should  be 
so  assured  ?" 

He  felt  that  he  was  being  worsted,  and  feared  that  she 
had  detected  the  absence  of  unselfish  good- will  and  honest 
purpose  toward  her.  He  was  angry  with  himself  and  her 
because  of  the  dilemma  in  which  he  was  placed.  Yet  what 
could  he  say  to  the  serene,  smiling  girl  before  him,  whose 
unflinching  blue  eyes  looked  into  his  with  a  keenness  of 
insight  that  troubled  him  ?  His  one  thought  now  was  to 
achieve  a  retreat  in  which  he  could  maintain  the  semblance 
of  dignity  and  good  breeding. 

With  a  light  and  deferential  laugh  he  said:  l,Iam  taught, 
unmistakably,  Miss  Vosburgh,  that  my  regard,  whatever  it 
may  be,  is  of  little  consequence  to  you,  and  that  it  would  be 


"A    VOW"  135 

folly  for  me  to  try  to  prove  a  thing  that  would  not  interest 
you  if  demonstrated.  I  feel,  however,  that  one  question  is 
due  to  us  both — Is  my  society  a  disagreeable  intrusion  ?" 

"If  it  had  been,  Mr.  Merwyn,  you  would  have  been  aware 
of  the  fact  before  this.  I  have  enjoyed  your  conversation 
this  morning. ''  . 

"I  hope,  then,  that  in  the  future  I  can  make  a  more 
favorable  impression,  and  that  in  time  you  will  give  me 
your  hand." 

Her  blue  eyes  never  left  his  face  as  he  spoke,  and  they 
grew  dark  with  a  meaning  that  perplexed  and  troubled  him. 
She  merely  bowed  gravely  and  turned  away. 

Never  had  his  complacency  been  so  disturbed.  He 
walked  homeward  with  steps  that  grew  more  and  more 
rapid,  keeping  pace  with  his  swift,  perturbed  thoughts. 
As  he  approached  his  residence  he  yielded  to  an  impulse, 
leaped  a  wall,  and  struck  out  for  the  mountains. 


13*5 


RlGiyAL    B. 


CHAPTEB    XIII 


E 


A    SIEGE    BEG 

ITHER  she  g  to  enha:  e,  or  eise 

she  is  not  the  girl  I  imagined  her  to  be  at  all, 

Wi'da:  \    V±~:  ~vi  h    ';■.  : \—'.L 

pOL  :::  ■  i  is 

might  as  well  admit  at  oDce  that  the  most 

iting  woman   I   ever  met     She  a  she 

I've  seen  too  many  mere  girls  not  v. 

3nt  deceits   and   mo:  once.      I   don't 

irian  Yosburgh;  I  only  half  believe  in 

>  iean  Trheth*  -  r  station 

hesitatingly  decline  the  i  :tion 

Not  that  I  iave  trier  these  as 

jans,  for  I  am  in  a  position  I  j  wealth 

:    :ii=    _...    :      ues   rny  curiosity,  stirs 
:=    _.'.-. :._•    vr;Lg=   to   tinte.      A:   t...s   rate   t:.e 
eparture  may  come  before  I  ly  for  it. 

l  in  one  respect  the  first  evening  I 
as  Strahan  and  others,  would  marry  1 
>he  might  make  her  choice  from  almost  any 
seek  her  society,  and  sl~  the  pretty 

i  '...:-.:  I  ::.     _  h  : ..-.:  none    ::   the::,   has 

her  heart,  or  else  she  knows  alue  and 

:  -    -  .  ost  o:  ther:..      I: 

rine-'  tr.e  77ea".th  ar.d  r.  .sitioa  I  cc  ;dd  ihve  her  irr.rr .ediatelv. 
would  not  these  certainties  bring  a  different  ion  into 

.■.-';.  ■-;-.  e-    '         I    :..      LCt     &.L     -'_:-:.     thr.t     S^-;     SL'/lld     iuLIiii   frOIQ 


c-'.&irr.s  tc  he. 
titeir    trais:.  ar 
;r.der  =  t.aid   M; 
but  I  intend  * 

that  I  :ar. 
yet,  by  any  m< 

and  rai£  atr<; 
..  aid 
iou:  o:  -- 
I  7.-;.,  :;.:-:..,:•;: 
La-    as    77<dd 


A    SIEGE    BEGUN  137 

Could  he  have  seen  the  girl's  passion  after  he  left  her 
he  would  have  understood  her  dark  look  at  their  parting. 
Hastily  seeking  her  own  room  she  locked  the  door  to  hide 
the  tears  of  anger  and  humiliation  that  would  come. 

"Well,"  she  cried,  "I  am  punished  for  trifling  with 
others.  Here  is  a  man  who  seeks  me  in  my  home  for  no 
other  purpose  than  his  own  amusement  and  the  gratifica- 
tion of  his  curiosity.  He  could  not  deny  it  when  brought 
squarely  to  the  issue.  He  could  not  look  me  in  the  eyes 
and  say  that  he  was  my  honest  friend.  He  would  flirt  with 
me,  if  he  could,  to  beguile  his  burdensome  leisure;  but 
when  I  defined  what  some  are  to  me,  and  more  would  be, 
if  permitted,  he  found  no  better  refuge  than  gallantry  and 
evasion.  What  can  he  mean?  what  can  he  hope  except  to 
see  me  in  his  power,  and  ready  to  accept  any  terms  he  may 
choose  to  offer?  Oh,  Arthur  Strahan !  your  wish  now  is 
wholly  mine.  May  I  have  the  chance  of  rejecting  this  man 
as  I  never  dismissed  one  before!" 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Willard's  frequent  visits  to 
the  Vosburgh  cottage  had  escaped  Mrs.  Merwyn's  vigilant 
solicitude,  but  her  son  spoke  of  them  in  such  a  way  that  she 
obtained  the  correct  impression  that  he  was  only  amusing 
himself.  Her  chief  hope  was  that  her  son  would  remain 
free  until  the  South  had  obtained  the  power  it  sought. 
Then  an  alliance  with  one  of  the  leading  families  in  the 
Confederacy  would  accomplish  as  much  as  might  have  re- 
sulted from  active  service  during  the  struggle.  She  had 
not  hesitated  to  express  this  hope  to  him. 

He  had  smiled,  and  said:  "One  of  the  leading  theories 
of  the  day  is  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  I  am  content  to 
limit  my  theory  to  a  survival.  If  I  am  alive  and  well  when 
your  great  Southern  empire  takes  the  lead  among  nations 
there  will  be  a  chance  for  the  fulfilment  of  your  dream.  If 
I  have  disappeared  beneath  Southern  mud  there  won't  be 
any  chance.  In  mv  opinion,  however.  I  should  have  ten- 
fold greater  power  with  our  Southern  friends  if  I  introduced 
to  them  an  English  heiress." 


138  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

His  mother  had  sighed  and  thought:  "It  is  strange  that 
this  calculating  boy  should  be  my  son.  His  father  was  self- 
controlled  and  resolute,  but  he  never  manifested  such  cold- 
blooded thought  of  self,  first  and  always." 

She  did  not  remember  that  the  one  lesson  taught  him 
from  his  very  cradle  had  been  that  of  self-pleasing.  She 
had  carried  out  her  imperious  will  where  it  had  clashed 
with  his,  and  had  weakly  compensated  him  by  indulgence 
in  the  trifles  that  make  up  a  child's  life.  She  had  never 
been  controlled  or  made  to  yield  to  others  in  thoughtful 
consideration  of  their  rights  and  feelings,  and  did  not  know 
how  to  instil  the  lesson;  therefore — so  inconsistent  is  human 
nature — when  she  saw  him  developing  her  own  traits,  she 
was  troubled  because  his  ambitions  differed  from  her  own. 
Had  his  hopes  and  desires  coincided  with  hers  he  would 
have  been  a  model  youth  in  her  eyes,  although  never  en- 
tertaining a  thought  beyond  personal  and  family  advantage. 
Apparently  there  was  a  wider  distinction  between  them,  for 
she  was  capable  of  suffering  and  sacrifice  for  the  South. 
The  possibilities  of  his  nature  were  as  yet  unrevealed. 

His  course  and  spirit,  however,  set  her  at  rest  in  regard 
to  his  visits  to  Marian  Vosburgh,  and  she  felt  that  there 
was  scarcely  the  slightest  danger  that  he  would  compromise 
himself  by  serious  attentions  to  the  daughter  of  an  obscure 
American  official. 

Willard  returned  from  his  brief  absence,  and  was  sur- 
prised at  his  eager  anticipation  of  another  interview  with 
Marian.  He  called  the  morning  after  his  arrival,  and  learn- 
ing that  she  had  just  gone  to  witness  a  drill  of  Strahan's 
company,  he  followed,  and  arrived  almost  as  soon  as  she 
did  at  the  ground  set  apart  for  military  evolutions. 

He  was  greeted  by  Marian  in  her  old  manner,  and  by 
Strahan  in  his  offhand  way.  The  young  officer  was  at  her 
side,  and  a  number  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  present 
as  spectators.  Merwyn  took  a  camp-stool,  sat  a  little  apart, 
and  nonchalantly  lighted  a  cigar. 

Suddenly  there   was   a    loud  commotion  in  the  guard* 


A    SIEGE    BEGUX  139 

house,  accompanied  by  oaths  and  the  sound  of  a  struggle. 
Then  a  wild  figure,  armed  with  a  knife,  rushed  toward 
Strahan,  followed  by  a  sergeant  and  two  or  three  privates. 
At  a  glance  it  was  seen  to  be  the  form  of  a  tall,  powerfuJ 
soldier,  half-crazed  with  liquor. 

44 you!"  exclaimed  the  man;  "you  ordered  me  to  be 

tied  up.  I'll  larn  you  that  we  ain't  down  in  Virginny  yet!" 
and  there  was  reckless  murder  in  his  bloodshot  eyes. 

Although  at  that  moment  unarmed,  Strahan,  without  a 
second's  hesitation,  sprang  at  the  man's  throat  and  sought 
to  catch  his  uplifted  hand,  but  could  not  reach  it  The 
probabilities  are  that  the  young  officer's  military  career 
would  have  been  ended  in  another  second,  had  not  Mer- 
wyn, without  removing  his  cigar  from  his  mouth,  caught 
the  uplifted  arm  and  held  it  as  in  a  vise. 

"Stand  back,  Strahan,"  he  said,  quietly;  but  the  young 
fellow  would  not  loosen  his  hold.  Therefore  Merwyn,  with 
his  left  haud  upon  the  collar  of  the  soldier,  jerked  him  a 
yard  away,  and  tripped  him  up  so  that  he  fell  upon  his 
face.  Twisting  the  fellow's  hands  across  his  back,  Merwyn 
said  to  the  sergeant,  "Now  tie  him  at  your  leisure." 

This  was  done  almost  instantly,  and  the  foul  mouth  was 
also  stopped  by  a  gag. 

Merwyn  returned  to  his  camp-stool,  and  coolly  removed 
the  cigar  from  his  mouth  as  he  glanced  toward  Marian. 
Although  white  and  agitated,  she  was  speaking  eager, 
complimentary,  and  at  the  same  time  soothing  words  to 
Strahan,  who,  in  accordance  with  his  excitable  nature,  was 
in  a  violent  passion.  She  did  not  once  glance  toward  the 
man  who  had  probably  saved  her  friend's  life,  but  Strahan 
came  and  shook  hands  with  him  cordially,  saying:  "It  was 
handsomely  and  bravely  done,  Merwyn.  I  appreciate  the 
service.  You  ought  to  be  an  officer,  for  you  could  make 
a  good  one— a  better  one  than  I  am,  for  you  are  as  cool 
as  a  cucumber." 

Others,  also,  would  have  congratulated  Merwyn  had  not 
his  manner  repelled  them,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  drill 


140  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

began.  Long  before  it  was  over  Marian  rose  and  went 
toward  her  phaeton.  In  a  moment  Merwyn  was  by  her 
side. 

"You  are  not  very  well,  Miss  Vosburgh,"  he  said.  "Let 
me  drive  you  home." 

She  bowed  her  acquiescence,  and  he  saw  that  she  was 
pale  and  a  little  faint;  but  by  a  visible  effort  she  soon 
rallied,  and  talked  on  indifferent  subjects. 

At  last  she  said,  abruptly:  "I  am  learning  what  war 
means.  It  would  seem  that  there  is  almost  as  much  danger 
in  enforcing  discipline  on  such  horrible  men  as  in  facing  the 
enemy." 

"Of  course,"  said  Merwyn,  carelessly.  "That  is  part  of 
the  risk." 

''Well,"  she  continued,  emphatically,  "I  never  saw  a 
braver  act  than  that  of  Mr.  Strahan.     He  was  unarmed." 

"I  was  also!"  was  the  somewhat  bitter  reply,  "and  you 
did  not  even  thank  me  by  a  look  for  saving  your  friend 
from  a  bad  wound  to  say  the  least." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Merwyn,  you  were  armed  with 
a  strength  which  made  your  act  perfectly  safe.  Mr.  Strahan 
risked  everything." 

"How  could  he  help  risking  everything?  The  infuri- 
ated beast  was  coming  toward  you  as  well  as  him.  Could 
he  have  run  away  ?  You  are  not  just  to  me,  or  at  least  you 
are  very  partial." 

"One  can  scarcely  help  being  partial  toward  one's 
friends.  I  agree  with  you,  however;  Mr.  Strahan  could 
not  have  taken  any  other  course.  Could  you,  with  a  friend 
in  such  peril  ?" 

"Certainly  not,  with  any  one  in  such  peril.  Let  us  say 
no  more  about  the  trifle. ' ' 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  said,  impetuously: 
"You  shall  not  misunderstand  me.  I  don't  know  whether 
I  am  unjust  or  not.  I  do  know  that  I  was  angered,  and 
cannot  help  it.  You  may  as  well  know  my  thoughts. 
Why  should   Mr.    Strahan  and  others   expose   themselves 


A    SIEGE   BEGUN  141 

to  such  risks  and  hardships  while  you  look  idly  on,  when 
you  so  easily  prove  yourself  able  to  take  a  man's  part  in 
the  struggle?  You  may  think,  if  you  do  not  say  it,  that 
it  is  no  affair  of  mine;  but  with  my  father,  whom  I  love 
better  than  life,  ready  at  any  moment  to  give  his  life  for  a 
cause,  I  cannot  patiently  see  utter  indifference  to  that  cause 
in  one  who  seeks  my  society." 

"I  think  your  feelings  are  very  natural,  Miss  Vosburgn, 
nor  do  I  resent  your  censure.  You  are  surrounded  by  influ- 
ences that  lead  you  to  think  as  you  do.  You  can  scarcely 
judge  me,  however.  Be  fair  and  just.  I  yield  to  you  fully 
— I  may  add,  patiently — the  right  to  think,  feel,  and  act  as 
you  think  best.     Grant  equal  rights  to  me." 

4 'Oh,  certainly,"  she  said,  a  little  coldly;  "each  one 
must  choose  his  own  course  for  life." 

"That  must  ever  be  true,"  he  replied,  "and  it  is  well 
to  remember  that  it  is  for  life.  The  present  condition  of 
affairs  is  temporary.  It  is  the  hour  of  excited  impulses 
rather  than  of  cool  judgment.  Ambitious  men  on  both  sides 
are  furthering  their  own  purposes  at  the  cost  of  others." 

"Is  that  your  idea  of  the  war,  Mr.  Merwyn  ?"  she  asked, 
looking  searchingly  into  his  face. 

"It  is,  indeed,  and  time  will  prove  me  right,  you  will 
discover." 

"Since  this  is  your  view,  I  can  scarcely  wonder  at  your 
course,"  she  said,  so  quietly  that  he  misunderstood  her,  and 
felt  that  she  half  conceded  its  reasonableness.  Then  she 
changed  the  subject,  nor  did  she  revert  to  it  in  his  society. 

As  August  drew  to  its  close,  Marian's  circle  shared  the 
feverish  solicitude  felt  in  General  Pope's  Virginia  campaign. 
Throughout  the  North  there  was  a  loyal  response  to  the  ap- 
peal for  men,  and  Strahan's  company  was  nearly  full.  He 
expected  at  any  hour  the  orders  which  would  unite  the 
regiment  at  Washington. 

One  morning  Mr.  Lane  came  to  say  good-by.  It  was  an 
impressive  hour  which  he  spent  with  Marian  when  bidding 
her  perhaps  a  final  farewell.     She  was  pale,   and  her  at- 


x42  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

tempts  at  mirthfulness  were  forced  and  feeble.  When  he 
rose  to  take  his  leave  she  suddenly  covered  her  face  with 
her  hand,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"Marian!"  he  exclaimed,  eagerly,  for  the  deep  affection 
in  his  heart  would  assert  itself  at  times,  and  now  her  emo- 
tion seemed  to  warrant  hope. 

"Wait,"  she  faltered.     "Do  not  go  just  yet." 

He  took  her  uresisting  hand  and  kissed  it,  while  she 
stifled   her  sobs. 

"Miss  Marian,"  he  began,  "you  know  how  wholly  I  am 
yours — " 

"Please  do  not  misunderstand  me,"  she  interrupted.  "I 
scarcely  know  how  I  could  feel  differently  if  I  were  parting 
with  my  own  brother.  You  have  been  such  a  true,  gener- 
ous friend!  Oh,  I  am  all  unstrung.  Papa  has  been  sent 
for  from  Washington,  and  we  don't  know  when  he'll  return 
or  what  service  may  be  required  of  him.  I  only  know  that 
he  is  like  you,  and  will  take  any  risk  that  duty  seems  to 
demand.  I  have  so  learned  to  lean  upon  you  and  trust  you 
that  if  anything  happened— well,  I  felt  that  I  could  go  to 
you  as  a  brother.  You  are  too  generous  to  blame  me  that 
I  cannot  feel  in  any  other  way.  See,  I  am  frank  with  you. 
Why  should  I  not  be  when  the  future  is  so  uncertain  ?  Is 
it  a  little  thing  that  I  should  think  of  you  first  and  feel 
that  I  shall  miss  you  most  when  I  am  so  distraught  with 
anxiety?" 

"No,  Miss  Marian.  To  me  it  is  a  sacred  thing.  I  want 
you  to  know  that  you  have  a  brother's  hand  and  heart  at 
your  disposal." 

"I  believe  you.  Come,"  she  added,  rising  and  dashing 
away  her  tears,  "1  must  be  brave,  as  you  are.  Promise  me 
that  you  will  take  no  risks  beyond  those  required  by  duty, 
and  that  you  will  write  to  me." 

"Marian,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  deep  voice,  "I  shall  ever 
try  to  do  what,  in  your  heart,  you  would  wish.  You  must 
also  promise  that  if  you  are  ever  in  trouble  you  will  let  me 
know. " 


A    SIEGE    BEGUX  143 

ltI  promise. " 

He  again  kissed  her  hand,  like  a  knight  of  the  olden 
time. 

At  the  last  turn  of  the  road  from  which  he  was  visible 
she  waved  her  handkerchief,  then  sought  her  room  and 
burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

"Oh,"  she  sobbed,  "as  I  now  feel  I  could  not  refuse 
him  anything.  I  may  never  see  him  again,  and  he  has 
been  so  kind  and  generous!" 

The  poor  girl  was  indeed  morbid  from  excitement  and 
anxiety.  Her  pale  face  began  to  give  evidence  of  the  strain 
which  the  times  imposed  on  her  in  common  with  all  those 
whose  hearts  had  much  at  stake  in  the  conflict. 

In  vain  her  mother  remonstrated  with  her,  and  told  her 
that  she  was  "meeting  trouble  half- way. "  Once  the  saga- 
cious lady  had  ventured  to  suggest  that  much  uncertainty 
might  be  taken  out  of  the  future  by  giving  more  encourage- 
ment to  Mr.  Merwyn.  "I  am  told  that  he  is  almost  a  mil- 
lionaire in  his  own  right."  she  said. 

"What  is  he  in  his  own  heart  and  soul?"  had  been  the 
girl's  indignant  answer.  "Don't  speak  to  me  in  that  way 
again,  mamma. " 

Meanwhile  Merwyn  was  a  close  observer  of  all  that  was 
taking  place,  and  was  corning  to  what  he  regarded  as  an 
heroic  resolution.  Except  as  circumstances  evoked  an  out- 
burst of  passion,  he  yielded  to  habit,  and  coolly  kept  his 
6ye  on  the  main  chances  of  his  life,  and  these  meant  what 
he  craved  most. 

Two  influences  had  been  at  work  upon  his  mind  during 
the  summer.  One  resulted  from  his  independent  possession 
of  large  property.  He  had  readily  comprehended  the  hints 
thrown  out  by  his  lawyer  that,  if  he  remained  in  New  York, 
the  times  gave  opportunity  for  a  rapid  increase  in  his  prop- 
erty, and  the  thought  of  achieving  large  wealth  for  himself, 
as  his  father  had  done  before  him,  was  growing  in  attrac- 
tiveness. His  indolent  nature  began  to  respond  to  vital 
American  life,  and  he  asked  himself  whether  fortune-mak- 


14-i  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ing  in  his  own  land  did  not  promise  more  than  fortune- 
seeking  among  English  heiresses;  moreover,  he  saw  that 
his  mother's  devotion  to  the  South  increased  daily,  and 
that  feeling  at  the  North  was  running  higher  and  becom- 
ing more  and  more  sharply  defined.  As  a  business  man 
in  New  York  his  property  would  be  safe  beyond  a  doubt, 
but  if  he  were  absent  and  affiliating  with  those  known  to 
be  hostile  to  the  North,  dangerous  complications  might 
arise. 

Almost  unconsciously  to  himself  at  first  the  second  in- 
fluence was  gaining  daily  in  power.  As  he  became  con- 
vinced that  Marian  was  not  an  ordinary  girl,  ready  for  a 
summer  flirtation  with  a  wealthy  stranger,  he  began  to  give 
her  more  serious  thought,  to  study  her  character,  and  ac- 
knowledge to  himself  her  superiority.  With  every  inter- 
view the  spell  of  her  fascination  grew  stronger,  until  at 
last  he  reached  the  conclusion  which  he  regarded  as  mag- 
nanimous indeed.  Waiving  all  questions  of  rank  and  wealth 
on  his  part  he  would  become  a  downright  suitor  to  this  fair 
country-woman.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  he  had  ar- 
rived at  his  benign  mood  by  asking  himself  the  question, 
"Why  should  I  not  please  myself?1'  and  by  the  oft-recur- 
ring thought:  "If  I  marry  rank  and  wealth  abroad  the  lady 
may  eventually  remind  me  of  her  condescension.  If  I  win 
great  wealth  here  and  lift  this  girl  to  my  position  she  will 
ever  be  devoted  and  subservient  and  I  be  my  own  master. 
I  prefer  to  marry  a  girl  that  pleases  me  in  her  own  person- 
ality, one  who  has  brains  as  well  as  beauty.  When  these 
military  enthusiasts  have  disappeared  below  the  Southern 
horizon,  and  time  hangs  more  heavily  on  her  hands,  she 
will  find  leisure  and  thought  for  me.  What  is  more,  the 
very  uncertainties  of  her  position,  with  the  advice  of  her 
prudent  mamma,  will  incline  her  to  the  ample  provision 
for  the  future  which  I  can  furnish." 

Thus  did  Willard  Merwyn  misunderstand  the  girl  he 
sought,  so  strong  are  inherited  and  perverted  traits  and 
lifelong   mental    habits.      He   knew    how   easily,   with    his 


A    SIEGE   BEGUN  145 

birth  and  wealth,  he  could  arrange  a  match  abroad  with 
the  high  contracting  powers.  Mrs.  Vosburgh  had  im- 
pressed him  as  the  chief  potentate  of  her  family,  and  not 
at  all  averse  to  his  purpose.  He  had  seen  Mr.  Vosburgh 
but  once,  and  the  quiet,  reticent  man  had  appeared  to  be  a 
second-rate  power.  He  had  also  learned  that  the  property 
of  the  family  was  chiefly  vested  in  the  wife.  Of  course,  if 
Mr.  Vosburgh  had  been  in  the  city,  Merwyn  would  have 
addressed  him  first,  but  he  was  absent  and  the  time  of  his 
return  unknown. 

The  son  knew  his  mother  would  be  furious,  but  he  had 
already  discounted  that  opposition.  He  regarded  this  South- 
ern-born lady  as  a  very  unsafe  guide  in  these  troublous  times. 
Indeed,  he  cherished  a  practical  kind  of  loyalty  to  her  and 
his  sisters. 

"Only  as  I  keep  my  head  level,"  he  said  to  himself,  "are 
they  safe.  Mamma  would  identify  herself  with  the  South  to- 
day if  she  could,  and  with  a  woman's  lack  of  foresight  be 
helpless  on  the  morrow.  Let  her  dream  her  dreams  and 
nurse  her  prejudices.  I  am  my  father's  son,  and  the  re- 
sponsible head  of  the  family;  and  I  part  with  no  solid 
advantage  until  I  receive  a  better  one.  I  shall  establish 
mamma  and  the  girls  comfortably  in  England,  and  then 
return  to  a  city  where  I  can  soon  double  my  wealth  and 
live  a  life  independent  of  every  one." 

This  prospect  grew  to  be  so  attractive  that  he  indulged, 
like  Mr.  Lanniere,  in  King  Cophetua's  mood,  and  felt  that 
one  American  girl  was  about  to  become  distinguished  in- 
deed. 

Watching  his  opportunity  he  called  upon  Mrs.  Vosburgh 
while  Marian  was  out  of  the  way,  formally  asking  her,  in  her 
husband's  absence,  for  permission  to  pay  his  addresses;  and 
he  made  known  his  financial  resources  and  prospects  with 
not  a  little  complacent  detail. 

Mrs.  Vosburgh  was  dignified  and  gracious,  enlarged  on 
her  daughter's  worth,  hinted  that  she  might  be  a  little  diffi- 
cult to  win  by  reason  of  the  attentions  she  had  received  and 

Roe— VI— 7 


146  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

her  peculiar  views,  yet  left,  finally,  the  impression  that  so 
flattering  proposals  could  not  be  slighted. 

Merwyn  went  home  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  He  would  no 
longer  approach  Marian  with  doubtful  and  ill-defined  inten- 
tions, which  he  believed  chiefly  accounted  for  the  clever 
girl's  coldness  toward  him. 


OMINOUS  147 


CHAPTER   XIV 

OMINOUS 

SUBORDINATE  only  to  her  father  and  two  chief 
friends,  in  Marian's  thoughts,  was  her  enemy,  for 
as  such  she  now  regarded  Willard  Merwyn.  She 
had  felt  his  attentions  to  be  humiliating  from  the  first. 
They  had  presented  her  former  life,  in  which  her  own 
amusement  and  pleasure  had  been  her  chief  thought,  in 
another  and  a  very  disagreeable  light.  These  facts  alone 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  awaken  a  vindictive  feeling, 
for  she  was  no  saint.  In  addition,  she  bitterly  resented  his 
indifference  to  a  cause  made  so  dear  by  her  father's  devo- 
tion and  her  friends'  brave  self-sacrifice.  Whatever  his 
motive  might  be,  she  felt  that  he  was  cold-blooded,  cow- 
ardly, or  disloyal,  and  such  courtesy  as  she  showed  him 
was  due  to  little  else  than  the  hope  of  inflicting  upon  him 
some  degree  of  humiliation.  She  had  seen  too  many  mani- 
festations of  honest  interest  and  ardent  love  to  credit  him 
with  any  such  emotion,  and  she  had  no  scruples  in  wound- 
ing his  pride  to  the  utmost. 

Meanwhile  events  in  the  bloody  drama  of  the  war  were 
culminating.  The  Union  officers  were  thought  to  have 
neither  the  wisdom  to  fight  at  the  right  time  nor  the  dis- 
cretion to  retreat  when  fighting  was  worse  than  useless.  In 
consequence  thousands  of  brave  men  were  believed  by  many 
to  have  died  in  vain  once  more  on  the  ill-fated  field  of  Bull 
Run. 

One  morning,  the  last  of  August,  Strahan  galloped  to 
the  Vosburgh  cottage  and  said  to  Marian,  who  met  him  at 


148  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

the  door:  "Orders  have  come.  I  have  but  a  few  minutes 
in  which  to  say  good-by.  Things  have  gone  wrong  in  Vir- 
ginia, and  every  available  man  is  wanted  in   Washington." 

His  flushed  face  was  almost  as  fair  as  her  own,  and  gave 
him  a  boyish  aspect  in  spite  of  his  military  dress,  but  un- 
hesitating resolution  and  courage  beamed  from  his  eyes. 

"Oh,  that  I  were  a  man!"  Marian  cried,  "and  you  would 
have  company.  All  those  who  are  most  to  me  will  soon  be 
perilling  their  lives." 

"Guess  who  has  decided  to  go  with  me  almost  at  the  last 
moment." 

"Mr.  Blauvelt?" 

"Yes;  I  told  him  that  he  was  too  high-toned  to  carry  a 
musket,  but  he  said  he  would  rather  go  as  a  private  than  as 
an  officer.  He  wishes  no  responsibility,  he  says,  and,  be- 
yond mere  routine  duty,  intends  to  give  all  his  time  and 
thoughts  to  art.  I  am  satisfied  that  I  have  you  to  thank 
for  this  recruit." 

"Indeed,  I  have  never  asked  him  to  take  part  in  the 
war. ' ' 

"No  need  of  your  asking  any  one  in  set  terms.  A  man 
would  have  to  be  either  a  coward,  or  else  a  rebel  at  heart, 
like  Merwyn,  to  resist  your  influence.  Indeed,  I  think  it  is 
all  the  stronger  because  you  do  not  use  it  openly  and  care- 
lessly. Every  one  who  comes  here  knows  that  your  heart 
is  in  the  cause,  and  that  you  would  have  been  almost  a 
veteran  by  this  time  were  you  of  our  sex.  Others,  besides 
Blauvelt,  obtained  the  impulse  in  your  presence  which  de- 
cided them.  Indeed,  your  drawing-room  has  been  greatly 
thinned,  and  it  almost  looks  as  if  few  would  be  left  to  haunt 
it  except  Merwyn." 

"I  do  not  think  he  will  haunt  it  much  longer,  and  I 
should  prefer  solitude  to  his  society." 

"Well,"  laughed  Strahan,  "I  think  you  will  have  a 
chance  to  put  one  rebel  to  rout  before  I  do.  I  don't 
blame  you,  remembering  your  feeling,  but  Merwyn  prob- 
ably saved  my  life,  and  I  gave  him  my  hand  in  a  final 


OMINOUS  149 

truce.  Friends  we  cannot  be  while  he  maintains  his  pres- 
ent cold  reserve.  As  you  told  me,  he  said  he  would  have 
done  as  much  for  any  one,  and  his  manner  since  has  chilled 
any  grateful  regard  on  my  part.  Yet  I  am  under  deep  ob- 
ligations, and  hereafter  will  never  do  or  say  anything  to  his 
injury." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself  about  Mr.  Merwyn,  Arthur.  I 
have  my  own  personal  score  to  settle  with  him.  He  has 
made  a  good  foil  for  you  and  my  other  friends,  and  I  have 
learned  to  appreciate  you  the  more.  You  have  won  my  en- 
tire esteem  and  respect,  and  have  taught  me  how  quickly  a 
noble,  self-sacrificing  purpose  can  develop  manhood.  Oh, 
Arthur,  Heaven  grant  that  we  may  all  meet  again!  How 
proud  I  shall  then  be  of  my  veteran  friends!  and  of  you 
most  of  all.  You  are  triumphing  over  yourself,  and  you 
have  won  the  respect  of  every  one  in  this  community." 

"If  lever  become  anything,  or  do  anything,  just  enter 
half  the  credit  in  your  little  note-book,"  he  said,  flushing 
with  pleasure. 

•"1  shall  not  need  a  note-book  to  keep  in  mind  anything 
that  relates  to  you.  Your  courage  has  made  me  a  braver, 
truer  girl.  Arthur,  please,  you  won't  get  reckless  in  camp? 
I  want  to  think  of  you  always  as  I  think  of  you  now.  When 
time  hangs  heavy  on  your  hands,  would  it  give  you  any  sat- 
isfaction to  write  to  me?" 

"Indeed  it  will,"  cried  the  young  officer.  "Let  me  make 
a  suggestion.  I  will  keep  a  rough  journal  of  what  occurs 
and  of  the  scenes  we  pass  through,  and  Blauvelt  will  illus- 
trate it.  How  should  you  like  that?  It  will  do  us  both 
good,  and  will  be  the  next  best  thing  to  running  in  of  an 
evening  as  we  have  done  here." 

Marian  was  more  than  pleased  with  the  idea.  When  at 
last  Strahan  said  farewell,  he  went  away  with  every  manly 
impulse  strengthened,  and  his  heart  warmed  by  the  evi- 
dences of  her  genuine  regard. 

In  the  afternoon  Blauvelt  called,  and.  with  Marian  and 
her  mother,  drove  to  the  station  to  take  part  in  an  ovation 


150  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

to  Captain  Strahan  and  his  company.  The  artist  had  affairs 
to  arrange  in  the  city  before  enlisting,  and  proposed  to  enter 
the  service  at  Washington. 

The  young  officer  bore  up  bravely,  but  when  he  left  his 
mother  and  sisters  in  tears,  his  face  was  stern  with  effort. 
Marian  observed,  however,  that  his  last  glance  from  the 
platform  of  the  cars  rested  upon  herself.  She  returned 
home  depressed  and  nervously  excited,  and  there  found 
additional  cause  for  solicitude  in  a  letter  from  her  father 
informing  her  of  the  great  disaster  to  Union  arms  which 
poor  generalship  had  invited.  This,  as  she  then  felt,  would 
have  been  bad  enough,  but  in  a  few  tender,  closing  words, 
he  told  her  that  they  might  not  hear  from  him  in  some  time, 
as  he  had  been  ordered  on  a  service  that  required  secrecy 
and  involved  some  danger.  Mrs.  Vosburgh  was  profuse  in 
her  lamentations  and  protests  against  her  husband's  course, 
but  Marian  went  to  her  room  and  sobbed  until  almost  ex- 
hausted. 

Her  nature,  however,  was  too  strong,  positive,  and  un- 
chastened  to  find  relief  in  tears,  or  to  submit  resignedly. 
Her  heart  was  full  of  bitterness  and  revolt,  and  her  par- 
tisanship was  becoming  almost  as  intense  as  that  of  Mrs. 
Merwyn. 

The  afternoon  closed  with  a  dismal  rainstorm,  which 
added  to  her  depression,  while  relieving  her  from  the  fear 
of  callers.  "Oh  dear!"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  rose  from  the 
mere  form  of  supper,  4*I  have  both  headache  and  heartache. 
I  am  going  to  try  to  get  through  the  rest  of  this  dismal  day 
in  sleep." 

u  Marian,  do.  at  least,  sit  an  hour  or  two  with  me.  Some 
one  may  come  and  divert  your  thoughts. 

"No  one  can  divert  me  to-night.  It  seems  as  if  an  age 
had  passed  since  we  came  here  in  June." 

"Your  father  knows  how  alone  we  are  in  the  world,  with 
no  near  relative  to  call  upon.  I  think  he  owes  his  first  duty 
to  us. ' ' 

"The   men   of   the   North,  who  are  right,  should   be  as 


OMIXOUS  151 

ready  to  sacrifice  everything  as  the  men  of  the  South,  who  are 
wrong;  and  so  also  should  Northern  women.  I  am  proud 
of  the  fact  that  my  father  is  employed  and  trusted  by  his 
government.  The  wrong  rests  with  those  who  caused  the 
war. 

"Every  man  can't  go  and  should  not  go.  The  business 
of  the  country  must  be  carried  on  just  the  same,  and  rich 
business  men  are  as  important  as  soldiers.  1  only  wish 
that,  in  our  loneliness  and  with  the  future  so  full  of  uncer- 
tainty, you  would  give  sensible  encouragement  to  one 
abundantly  able  to  give  you  wealth  and  the  highest 
position." 

"Mr.  Merwyn?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Merwyn,"  continued  her  mother,  with  an 
emphasis  somewhat  irritable.  "He  is  not  an  old,  worn-out 
millionaire,  like  Mr.  Lanniere.  He  is  young,  exceedingly 
handsome,  so  high-born  that  he  is  received  as  an  equal  in 
the  houses  of  the  titled  abroad.  He  has  come  to  me  like 
an  honorable  man,  and  asked  for  the  privilege  of  paying 
his  addresses.  He  would  have  asked  your  father  had  he 
been  in  town.  He  was  frank  about  his  affairs,  and  has  just 
received,  in  his  own  name,  a  very  large  property,  which  he 
proposes  to  double  by  entering  upon  business  in  New 
York." 

"What  does  his  mother  think  of  his  intentions  toward 
me?"  the  young  girl  asked,  so  quietly,  that  Mrs.  Vosburgh 
was  really  encouraged. 

"He  says  that  he  and  his  mother  differ  on  many  points, 
and  will  differ  on  this  one,  and  that  is  all  he  seemed  inclined 
to  say,  except  to  remark  significantly  that  he  had  attained 
his  majority." 

"It  was  he  whom  you  meant,  when  you  said  that  some 
one  might  come  who  would  divert  my  thoughts  ?" 

"I  think  he  would  have  come,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
storm." 

"Mamma,  you  have  not  given  him  any  encouragement? 
You  have  not  compromised  yourself,  or  me?" 


152  AR    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Mrs.  Vosburgh  bridled  with  the  beginnings  of  resentment, 
and  said,  "Marian,  you  should  know  me  too  well—" 

"There,  there,  mamma,  I  was  wrong  to  think  of  such  a 
thing;  I  ask  your  pardon.  " 

"I  may  have  my  sensible  wishes  and  preferences,"  re- 
sumed the  lady,  complacently,  "but  I  have  never  yet  acted 
the  role  of  the  anxious,  angling  mamma.  I  cannot  help 
wishing,  however,  that  you  would  consider  favorably  an 
offer  like  this  one,  and  I  certainly  could  not  treat  Mr. 
Merwyn  otherwise  than  with  courtesy." 

"That  was  right  and  natural  of  you,  mamma.  You  have 
no  controversy  with  Mr.  Merwyn;  I  have.  I  hate  and  de- 
test him.  Well,  since  he  may  come,  I  shall  dress  and  be 
prepared." 

"Oh,  Marian!  you  are  so  quixotic!" 
"Dear  mamma,  you  are  mistaken.     Do  not  think  me  in- 
considerate of  you.     Some" day  I  will  prove  I  am  not  by  my 
marriage,  if  I  marry;"  and  she  went   to   her  mother  and 
kissed  her  tenderly. 

Then  by  a  sudden  transition  she  drew  herself  up  with 
the  dark,  inscrutable  expression  that  was  becoming  charac- 
teristic since  deeper  experiences  had  entered  into  her  life, 
and  said,  firmly: 

"Should  I  do  as  you  suggest,  I  should  be  false  to  those 
true  friends  who  have  gone  to  fight,  perhaps  to  die;  false 
to  my  father:  false  to  all  that's  good  and  true  in  my  own 
soul.  As  to  my  heart,"  she  concluded,  with  a  contemptu- 
ous shrug,  "that  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  affair.  Mamma, 
you  must  promise  me  one  thing.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  meet 
Mr.  Merwyn  to-night.  Please  excuse  yourself  if  he  asks  for 
you.     I  will  see  him." 

"Mark  my  words,  Marian,  you  will  marry  a  poor  man." 

41  Oh,  I  have  no  objection  to  millionaires,"  replied  the 

girl,  with  a  short,  unmirthful  laugh,  "but  they  must  begin 

their  suit  in  a  manner  differing  from  that  of  two  who  have 

favored  me;"  and  she  went  to  her  room. 

As  Merwyn  resembled   his   deceased   parent,  so  Marian 


OMINOUS  153 

bad  inherited  not  a  little  of  her  father's  spirit  and  char- 
acter. Until  within  the  last  few  months  her  mother's  in- 
fiuence  had  been  predominant,  and  the  young  girl  had 
reflected  the  social  conventionalities  to  which  she  was 
accustomed.  No  new  traits  had  since  been  created.  Her 
increasing  maturity  had  rendered  her  capable  of  revealing 
qualities  inherent  in  her  nature,  should  circumstances  evoke 
them.  The  flower,  as  it  expands,  the  plant  as  it  grows,  is 
apparently  very  different,  yet  the  same.  The  stern,  beauti- 
ful woman  who  is  arraying  herself  before  her  mirror,  as  a 
soldier  assumes  his  arms  and  equipments,  is  the  same  with 
the  thoughtless,  pleasure-loving  girl  whom  we  first  met  in 
her  drawing-room  in  June;  but  months  of  deep  and  almost 
tragic  experience  have  called  into  activity  latent  forces  re- 
ceived from  her  father's  soul — his  power  of  sustained  action, 
of  resolute  purpose,  of  cherishing  high  ideals,  and  of  white, 
quiet  anger. 

Her  toilet  was  scarcely  completed  when  Willard  Merwyn 
was  announced. 


154  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER  XV 

SCORX 

IT  IS  essential  that  we  should  go  back  several  hours  in 
our  story.  On  the  morning  of  the  day  that  witnessed 
the  departure  of  Strahan  and  his  company  Merwyn's 
legal  adviser  had  arrived  and  had  been  closeted  for  several 
hoars  with  his  client.  Mr.  Bodoin  was  extremely  conserva- 
tive. Even  in  youth  he  had  scarcely  known  any  leanings 
toward  passion  of  any  kind  or  what  the  world  regards  as 
folly.  His  training  had  developed  and  intensified  natural 
characteristics,  and  now  to  preserve  in  security  the  property 
intrusted  to  his  care  through  a  stormy,  unsettled  period  had 
become  his  controlling  motive.  He  looked  upon  the  ups 
and  downs  of  political  men  and  measures  with  what  seemed 
to  him  a  superior  and  philosophical  indifference,  and  he  was 
more  than  pleased  to  find  in  Merwyn,  the  son  of  his  old 
client,  a  spirit  so  in  accord  with  his  own  ideas. 

They  had  not  been  very  long  together  on  this  fateful 
day  before  he  remarked:  "My  dear  young  friend,  it  is  ex- 
ceedingly gratifying  to  find  that  you  are  level-headed,  like 
your  father.  He  was  a  man,  Willard,  whom  you  do  well  to 
imitate.  He  secured  what  he  wanted  and  had  his  own  way, 
yet  there  was  no  nonsense  about  him.  I  was  his  intimate 
friend  as  well  as  legal  adviser,  and  I  know,  perhaps,  more 
of  his  life  than  any  one  else.  Your  mother,  to-day,  is  the 
handsomest  woman  of  her  years  I  ever  saw,  but  when  she 
was  of  your  age  her  beauty  was  startling,  and  she  had  almost 
as  many  slaves  among  the  first  young  men  of  the  South  as 
there  were  darkies  on  the  plantation,  yet  your  father  quietly 


SCORJS  155 

bore  her  away  from  them  all.  What  is  more,  he  so  managed 
as  to  retain  her  respect  and  affection  to  the  last,  at  the  same 
time  never  yielding  an  inch  in  his  just  rights  or  dignity,  and 
he  ever  made  Mrs.  Merwyn  feel  that  her  just  rights  and  dignity 
were  equally  sacred.  Proud  as  your  mother  was,  she  had 
the  sense  to  see  that  his  course  was  the  only  proper  one. 
Their  marriage,  my  boy,  always  reminded  me  of  an  alliance 
between  two  sovereign  and  alien  powers.  It  was  like  a  court 
love-match  abroad.  Your  father,  a  Northern  man,  saw  the 
beautiful  Southern  heiress,  and  he  sued  as  if  he  were  a  po- 
tentate from  a  foreign  realm.  Well-born  and  accustomed 
to  wealth  all  his  life,  he  matched  her  pride  with  a  pride  as 
great,  and  made  his  offer  on  his  feet  as  if  he  were  conlerring 
as  much  as  he  should  receive.  That,  in  fact,  was  the  only 
way  to  win  a  woman  who  had  been  bowed  down  to  all  her 
life.  After  marriage  they  lived  together  like  two  independ- 
ent sovereigns,  sometimes  here,  then  in  the  city  house,  and, 
when  Mrs.  Merwyn  so  desired  it,  on  the  Southern  planta- 
tion, or  abroad,  fie  always  treated  her  as  if  she  were  a 
countess  or  a  queen  in  her  own  right  and  paid  the  utmost 
deference  to  her  Southern  ideas,  but  never  for  a  moment 
permitted  her  to  forget  that  he  was  her  equal  and  had  the 
same  right  to  his  Northern  views.  In  regard  to  financial 
matters  he  looked  after  her  interests  as  if  he  were  her  prime 
minister,  instead  of  a  husband  wishing  to  avail  himself  of 
anything.  In  his  own  affairs  he  consulted  me  constantly 
and  together  we  planted  his  investments  on  the  bed-rock. 
These  reminiscences  will  enable  you  to  understand  the 
pleasure  with  which  I  recognize  in  you  the  same  traits. 
Of  course  you  know  that  the  law  gives  you  great  power 
over  your  property.  If  you  were  inclined  to  dissipation, 
or,  what  would  be  little  better  in  these  times,  were  hot 
headed  and  bent  on  taking  part  in  this  losing  fight  of  the 
South,  I  should  have  no  end  of  trouble." 

"You,  also,  are  satisfied,  then,  that  it  will  be  a  losing 
fight?"  Merwyn  had  remarked. 

41  Yes,  even  though  the  South  achieves  its  independence. 


156  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

I  am  ofl  at  one  side  of  all  the  turmoil,  and  my  only  aim  is 
to  keep  my  trusts  safe,  no  matter  who  wins.  I  see  things 
as  they  are  up  to  date  and  not  as  I  might  wish  them  to  be 
if  under  the  influence  of  passion  or  prejudice.  The  South 
may  be  recognized  by  foreign  powers  and  become  a  separate 
state,  although  I  regard  this  as  very  doubtful.  In  any  event 
the  great  .North  and  West,  with  the  immense  tides  of  immi- 
gration pouring  in,  will  so  preponderate  as  to  be  over- 
shadowing. The  Southern  empire,  of  which  Mrs.  Merwyn 
dreams,  would  dwindle  rather  than  grow.  Human  slavery, 
right  or  wrong,  is  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  age.  But 
enough  of  this  political  discussion.  I  only  touch  upon  it 
to  influence  your  action.  By  the  course  you  are  pursuing 
you  not  only  preserve  all  your  Northern  property,  but  you 
will  also  enable  me  to  retain  for  your  mother  and  sisters  the 
Southern  plantation.  This  would  be  impossible  if  you  were 
seeking  'the  bubble,  reputation,  at  the  cannon's  mouth'  on 
either  side.  Whatever  happens,  there  must  still  be  law  and 
government.  Both  sides  will  soon  get  tired  of  this  exhaust- 
ing struggle,  and  then  those  who  survive  and  have  been 
wise  will  reap  the  advantage.  Now,  as  to  your  own  affairs, 
the  legal  formalities  are  nearly  completed.  If  you  return 
and  spend  the  winter  in  New  York  I  can  put  you  in  the 
way  of -vastly  increasing  your  property,  and  by  such  pres- 
ence and  business  activity  you  will  disarm  ail  criticism 
which  your  mother's  Southern  relations  may  occasion." 
"Mamma  will  bitterly  oppose  my  return.' ' 
"I  can  only  say  that  what  I  advise  will  greatly  tend  to 
conserve  Mrs.  Merwyn's  interests.  If  you  prefer,  we  can 
manage  it  in  this  way:  after  you  have  safely  established 
your  mother  and  sisters  abroad  I  can  write  you  a  letter 
saying  that  your  interests  require  your  presence." 

And  so  it  had  been  arranged,  and  the  old  lawyer  sat 
down  to  dinner  with  Mrs.  Merwyn,  paying  her  the  courtly 
deference  which,  while  it  gratified  her  pride,  was  accepted 
as  a  matter  of  course — as  a  part  of  her  husband's  legacy. 
He  had  soon  afterward    taken  his  departure,   leaving   his 


SCORN  157 

young  client  in  a  most  complacent  and  satisfactory 
mood. 

It  may  thus  be  seen  that  Merwyn  was  not  an  unnatural 
product  of  the  influences  which  had  until  now  guided  his 
life  and  formed  his  character.  The  reminiscences  of  his 
father's  friend  had  greatly  increased  his  sense  of  magna- 
nimity in  his  intentions  toward  Marian.  In  the  overweening 
pride  of  youth  he  felt  as  if  he  were  almost  regally  born  and 
royally  endowed,  and  that  a  career  was  opening  before  him 
in  which  he  should  prove  his  lofty  superiority  to  those 
whose  heads  were  turned  by  the  hurly-burly  of  the  hour. 
Young  as  he  was,  he  had  the  sense  to  be  in  accord  with 
wise  old  age,  that  looked  beyond  the  clouds  and  storm  in 
which  so  many  would  be  wrecked.  Nay,  even  more,  from 
those  very  wrecks  he  would  gather  wealth. 

11  The  time  and  opportunity  for  cool  heads,"  he  smilingly 
assured  himself,  klis  when  men  are  parting  with  judgment 
and  reason." 

Such  was  his  spirit  when  he  sought  the  presence  of  the 
girl  whose  soul  was  keyed  up  to  almost  a  passion  of  self- 
sacrifice.  His  mind  belittled  the  cause  for  which  her  idol- 
ized father  was,  at  that  moment,  perilling  his  life,  and  to 
which  her  dearest  friends  had  consecrated  themselves,  fie 
was  serene  in  congratulating  himself  that  "little  Strahan" 
had  gone,  and  that  the  storm  would  prevent  the  presence  of 
other  interlopers. 

Although  the  room  was  lighted  as  usual,  he  had  not 
waited  many  moments  before  a  slight  chill  fell  upon  his 
sanguine  mood.  The  house  was  so  still,  and  the  rain  dripped 
and  the  wind  sighed  so  dismally  without,  that  a  vague  pre- 
sentiment of  evil  began  to  assert  itself.  Heretofore  he  had 
found  the  apartment  full  of  life  and  mirth,  and  he  could  not 
help  remembering  that  some  who  had  been  its  guests  might 
now  be  out  in  the  storm.      Would  she  think  of  this  also  ? 

The  parlor  was  scarcely  in  its  usual  pretty  order,  and  no 
flowers  graced  the  table.  Evidently  no  one  was  expected. 
"All  the  better,"  he  assured  himself;  "and  her  desolation 


168  AN    ORIGINAL   BELLE 

will  probably  incline  her  the  more  to  listen  to  one  who  can 
bring  golden  gleams  on  such  a  dreary  night." 

A  daily  paper,  with  heavy  headlines,  lay  on  a  chair 
near  him.  The  burden  of  these  lines  was  defeat,  carnage, 
death. 

They  increased  the  slight  chill  that  was  growing  upon 
him,  and  made  him  feel  that  possibly  the  story  of  his  birth 
and  greatness  which  he  had  hoped  to  tell  might  be  swal- 
lowed up  by  this  other  story  which  fascinated  him  with  its 
horror. 

A  slight  rustle  caused  him  to  look  up,  and  Marian  stood 
before  him.  Throwing  aside  the  paper  as  if  it  were  an  evil 
spell,  he  rose,  would  have  offered  his  hand  had  there  been 
encouragement,  but  the  girl  merely  bowed  and  seated  her- 
self as  she  said:  "Good-evening,  Mr.  Merwyn.  You  are 
brave  to  venture  out  in  such  a  storm." 

Was  there  irony  in  the  slight  accent  on  the  word 
11  brave?"  How  singularly  severe  was  her  costume,  also! 
— simple  black,  without  an  ornament.  Yet  he  admitted  that 
he  had  never  seen  her  in  so  effective  a  dress,  revealing,  as 
it  did,  the  ivory  whiteness  of  her  arms  and  neck. 

"There  is  only  one  reason  why  I  should  not  come  this 
evening — you  may  have  hoped  to  escape  all  callers." 

kiIt  matters  little  what  oae  hopes  in  these  times,"  she 
said,  "for  events  are  taking  place  which  set  aside  all  hopes 
and  expectations. ' ' 

In  her  bitter  mood  she  was  impatient  to  have  the  inter- 
view over,  so  that  she  accomplished  her  purpose.  Therefore 
she  proposed,  contrary  to  her  custom  with  him,  to  employ 
the  national  tragedy,  to  which  he  was  so  indifferent,  as  one 
of  her  keenest  weapons. 

kiIt  is  quite  natural  that  you  should  feel  so,  Miss  Vos- 
burgh,  in  regard  to  such  hopes  as  you  have  thus  far  enter- 
tained— " 

"Since  they  are  the  only  hopes  I  know  anything  about, 
Mr.  Merwyn,  I  am  not  indifferent  to  them.  I  suppose  you 
were  a*,  the  depot  to  see  your  friend,  Mr.  Strahan,  depart?" 


SCORN  159 

and  the  question  was  asked  with  a  steady,  searching  scrutiny 
that  was  a  little  embarrassing. 

Indeed,  her  whole  aspect  produced  a  perplexed,  wonder- 
ing admiration,  for  she  seemed  breathing  marble  in  her  cold 
self-possession.  He  felt,  however,  that  the  explanation 
which  he  must  give  of  his  absence  when  so  many  were 
evincing  patriotic  good- will  would  enable  him  to  impress 
her  with  the  fact  that  he  had  superior  interests  at  stake 
in  which  she  might  have  a  share. 

Therefore  he  said,  gravely,  as  if  the  reason  were  ample: 
"I  should  have  been  at  the  depot,  of  course,  had  not  my 
legal  adviser  come  up  from  town  to-day  and  occupied  me 
with  very  important  business.  Mr.  Bodoin's  time  is  valua- 
ble to  him,  and  he  presented,  for  my  consideration,  ques- 
tions of  vital  interest.  I  have  reached  that  age  now  when  I 
must  not  only  act  for  myself,  but  I  also  have  very  delicate 
duties  to  perform  toward  my  mother  and  sisters." 

''Mr.  Strahan  had  a  sad  duty  to  perform  toward  his 
mother  and  sisters — he  said  good-by  to  them." 

"A  duty  which  I  shall  soon  have  to  perform,  also," 
Merwyn  said. 

She  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  Had  he  at  last  found  his 
manhood,  and  did  he  intend  to  assert  it?  Had  he  aban- 
doned his  calculating  policy,  and  was  he  cherishing  some 
loyal  purpose  ?  If  this  were  true  and  she  had  any  part  in 
his  decision,  it  would  be  a  triumph  indeed;  and,  while  she 
felt  that  she  could  never  respond  to  any  such  proposition  as 
he  had  made  through  i  -r  mother,  she  could  forget  the  past 
and  give  him  her  hand  in  friendly  encouragement  toward 
such  a  career  as  Lane  and  Strahan  had  chosen.  She  felt 
that  it  would  be  well  not  to  be  over- hasty  in  showing 
resentment,  but  if  possible  to  let  him  reveal  his  plans  and 
character  fully.  She  listened  quietly,  therefore,  without 
show  of  approval  or  disapproval,  as  he  began  in  reply 
to  her  questioning  glance. 

"I  am  going  to  be  frank  with  you  this  evening,  Miss 
Vosburgh.     The  time  has  come  when  I  should  be  so.     Has 


160  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

not  Mrs.  Vosburgh  told  you  something  of  the  nature  r.f  my 
interview  with  her?" 

The  young  girl  merely  bowed. 

"Then  you  know  how  sincere  and  earnest  I  am  in  what 
— in  what  I  shall  have  to  say." 

To  his  surprise  he  felt  a  nervous  trepidation  that  he 
would  not  have  imagined  possible  in  making  his  magnani- 
mous offer.  He  found  this  humble  American  girl  more 
difficult  to  approach  than  any  other  woman  he  had  ever  met. 

"Miss  Vosburgh,"  he  continued,  hesitatingly,  "when  I 
first  entered  this  room  I  did  not  understand  your  true  worth 
and  superiority,  but  a  sense  of  these  has  been  growing  on 
me  from  that  hour  to  this.  Perhaps  I  was  not  as  sincere 
as  I — I — should  have  been,  and  you  were  too  clever  not 
to  know  it.     Will  you  listen  to  me  patiently  ?" 

Again  she  bowed,  and  lower  this  time  to  conceal  a  slight 
smile  of  triumph. 

Encouraged,  he  proceeded:  "Now  that  I  have  learned 
to  know  you  well,  I  wish  you  to  know  me  better — to  know 
all  about  me.  My  father  was  a  Northern  man  with  strong 
Northern  traits;  my  mother,  a  Southern  woman  with  equally 
strong  Southern  traits.  I  have  been  educated  chiefly  abroad. 
Is  it  strange,  then,  that  I  cannot  feel  exactly  as  you  do,  01 
as  some  of  your  friends  do  ?" 

"As  we  once  agreed,  Mr.  Merwyn,  each  must  choose  his 
own  course  for  life.  " 

"I  am  glad  you  have  reminded  me  of  that,  for  I  am 
choosing  for  life  and  not  for  the  next  ten  months  or  ten 
years.  As  I  said,  then,  all  this  present  hurly-burly  will 
soon  pass  away. ' '  Her  face  darkened,  but  in  his  embarrass- 
ment and  preoccupation  he  did  not  perceive  it.  "I  have 
inherited  a  very  large  property,  and  my  mother's  affairs  are 
such  that  I  must  act  wisely,  if  not  always  as  she  would 
wish." 

"May  I  ask  what  Mrs.  Merwyn  would  prefer?" 

"I  am  prepared  to  be  perfectly  frank  about  myself," 
he  replied,  hesitatingly,  "but — " 


SCORN  161 

"Pardon  me.     It  is  immaterial." 

"I  have  a  perfect  right  to  judge  and  act  for  myself,'5 
resumed  Merwyn,  with  some  emphasis. 

"Thank  you.     I  should  remember  that." 

The  words  were  spoken  in  a  low  tone  and  almost  as  if 
in  soliloquy,  and  her  face  seemed  to  grow  colder  and  more 
impassive  if  possible. 

With  something  approaching  dismay  Merwyn  had  ob- 
served that  the  announcement  of  his  large  fortune  had  had 
no  softening  influence  on  the  girl's  manner,  and  he  thought, 
"Truly,  this  is  the  most  dreary  and  business-like  wooing 
that  I  ever  imagined!" 

But  he  had  gone  too  far  to  recede,  and  his  embarrassment 
was  beginning  to  pass  into  something  like  indignation  that 
he  and  all  he  could  offer  were  so  little  appreciated. 

Restraining  this  feeling,  he  went  on,  gravely  and  gently: 
"You  once  intimated  that  I  was  young,  Miss  Vosburgh,  yet 
the  circumstances  and  responsibilities  of  my  lot  have  led 
me  to  think  more,  perhaps,  than  others  of  my  age,  and  to 
look  beyond  the  present  hour.  I  regard  the  property  left 
me  by  my  father  as  a  trust,  and  I  have  learned  to-day  that 
I  can  greatly  increase  and  probably  double  it.  It  is  my 
intention,  after  taking  my  mother  and  sisters  abroad,  to 
return  to  New  York  and  to  enter  cautiously  into  business 
under  the  guidance  of  my  legal  adviser,  who  is  a  man  of 
great  sagacity.  Now,  as  you  know,  I  have  said  from  the 
first  that  it  is  natural  for  you  to  feel  deeply  in  regard  to 
the  events  of  the  day;  but  I  look  beyond  all  this  turmoil, 
distraction,  and  passion,  which  will  be  as  temporary  as  it 
is  violent.  I  am  thinking  for  you  as  truly  as  for  myself. 
Par  Ion  me  for  saying  it;  I  am  sure  I  am  in  a  better  condi- 
tion of  mind  to  think  for  you  than  you  are  to  judge  for 
yourself.  I  can  give  you  the  highest  social  position,  and 
make  your  future  a  certainty.  From  causes  I  can  well  un- 
derstand the  passion  of  the  hour  has  been  swaying  you — " 

She  rose,  and  by  an  emphatic  gesture  stopped  him,  and 
there  was  a  fire  in  the  blue  eyes  that  had  been  so  cold  be- 


162  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

fore.  She  appeared  to  have  grown  inches  as  she  stood 
before  him  and  said,  in  tones  of  concentrated  scorn:  "You 
are  indeed  young,  yet  y*ou  speak  the  calculating  words  of 
one  so  old  as  to  have  lost  every  impulse  of  youth.  Do  you 
know  where  my  father  is  at  this  moment?" 

11  No,"  he  faltered. 

"He  is  taking  part,  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  in  this  tem- 
porary hurly-burly,  as  you  caricature  it.  It  is  he  who  is 
swaying  me,  and  the  memory  of  the  brave  men  whom  you 
have  met  here  and  to  whom  you  fancied  yourself  superior. 
Did  not  that  honored  father  exist,  or  those  brave  friends,  I 
feel  within  my  soul  that  I  have  womanhood  enough  to  rec- 
ognize and  feel  my  country's  need  in  this  supreme  hour  of 
her  peril.  You  thoughtful  beyond  your  years  ? — you  think 
for  me?  What  did  you  think  of  me  the  first  evening  you 
spent  here?  What  were  your  thoughts  as  you  came  again 
and  again  ?  To  what  am  I  indebted  for  this  honor,  but  the 
fact  that  you  could  only  beguile  a  summer's  ennui  by  a 
passing  flirtation  which  would  leave  me  you  little  cared 
where,  after  you  had  joined  your  aristocratic  friends  abroad  ? 
Now  your  plans  have  changed,  and,  after  much  deliberation, 
you  have  come  to  lift  me  to  the  highest  position!  Never 
dream  that  I  can  descend  to  your  position!" 

He  was  fairly  trembling  with  anger  and  mortification, 
and  she  was  about  to  leave  the  apartment. 

"Stay!"  he  said,  passing  his  hand  across  his  brow  as  if 
to  brush  away  confusion  of  mind;  "I  have  not  given  you 
reason  for  such  contempt,  and  it  is  most  unreasonable." 

44 Why  is  it  unreasonable?"  she  asked,  her  scornful  self- 
control  passing  into  something  like  passion.  "I  will  speak 
no  more  of  the  insult  of  your  earlier  motives  toward  me, 
now  that  you  think  you  can  afford  to  marry  me.  In  your 
young  egotism  you  may  think  a  girl  forgets  and  forgives 
such  a  thing  easily  if  bribed  by  a  fortune.  I  will  let  all 
that  be  as  if  it  were  not,  and  meet  you  on  the  ground  of 
what  is,  at  this  present  hour.  I  despise  you  because  you 
have  no  more  mind  or  manhood— take  it  as  you  will— than 


SCORN  163 

to  think  that  this  struggle  for  national  life  and  liberty  is  a 
mere  passing  fracas  of  politicians.  Do  you  think  I  will 
tamely  permit  you  to  call  my  noble  father  little  better  than 
a  fool  ?  He  has  explained  to  me  what  this  war  means — he, 
of  twice  your  age,  and  with  a  mind  as  large  as  his  manhood 
and  courage.  You  have  assumed  to  be  his  superior,  also,- 
as  well  as  that  of  Mr.  Lane  and  Mr.  Strahan,  who  are  about 
to  peril  life  in  the  'hurly-burly.'  What  are  your  paltry 
thousands  to  me?  Should  I  ever  love,  I  will  love  a  man; 
and  had  I  your  sex  and  half  your  inches,  I  should  this  hour 
be  in  Virginia,  instead  of  defending  those  I  love  and  honor 
against  your  implied  aspersions.  Had  you  your  mother's 
sentiments  I  should  at  least  respect  you,  although  she  has 
no  right  to  be  here  enjoying  the  protection  of  a  government 
that  she  would  destroy." 

He  was  as  pale  as  she  had  become  flushed,  and  again  he 
passed  his  hand  over  his  brow  confusedly  and  almost  help- 
lessly.    lkIt  is  all  like  a  horrid  dream,"  he  muttered. 

"Mr.  Merwyn,  you  have  brought  this  on  yourself,"  she 
said,  more  calmly.  "You  have  sought  to  wrong  me  in  my 
own  home.  Your  words  and  manner  have  ever  been  an  in- 
sult to  the  cause  for  which  my  father  may  die — Oh,  God!" 
she  exclaimed,  with  a  cry  of  agony — "for  which  he  may  now 
be  dead!  Go,  go,"  she  added,  with  a  strong  repellent  ges- 
ture. uWe  have  nothing  in  common:  you  measure  every- 
thing with  the  inch-rule  of  self. " 

As  if  pierced  to  the  very  soul  he  sprang  forward  and 
seized  her  hand  with  almost  crushing  force,  as  he  cried: 
"No,  I  measure  everything  hereafter  by  the  breadth  of 
your  woman's  soul.  You  shall  not  cast  me  off  in  con- 
tempt. If  you  do  you  are  not  a  woman — you  are  a  fanatic, 
worse  than  my  mother;"  and  he  rushed  from  the  house  like 
one  distraught. 

Panting,  trembling,  frightened  by  the  volcanic  outburst 
such  as  she  had  never  dreamed  of,  Marian  sank  on  a  lounge, 
sobbing  like  a  child. 


164  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AWAKENED     AT     LAST 

IT  may  well  be  imagined  that  Mrs.  Vosburgh  was  not  far 
distant  during  the  momentous  interview  described  in 
the  last  chapter,  and,  as  Merwyn  rushed  from  the  house 
as  if  pursued  by  the  furies,  she  appeared  at  once  on  the 
scene,  full  of  curiosity  and  dismay. 

Exclamations,  questionings,  elicited  little  from  Marian. 
The  strain  of  the  long,  eventful  day  had  been  too  great, 
and  the  young  girl,  who  might  have  been  taken  as  a  type 
of  incensed  womanhood  a  few  moments  before,  now  had 
scarcely  better  resources  than  such  remedies  as  Mrs.  Vos- 
burgh's  matronly  experience  knew  how  to  apply.  Few  re- 
main long  on  mountain-tops,  physical  or  metaphorical,  and 
deep  valleys  lie  all  around  them.  Little  else  could  be  done 
for  the  poor  girl  than  to  bring  the  oblivion  of  sleep,  and  let 
kindly  Nature  nurse  her  child  back  to  a  more  healthful  con- 
dition of  body  and  mind. 

But  it  would  be  long  before  Willard  Merwyn  would  be 
amenable  to  the  gentle  offices  of  nature.  Simpson,  the  foot- 
man, flirting  desperately  with  the  pretty  waitress  in  the 
kitchen  below,  heard  his  master's  swift,  heavy  step  on 
the  veranda,  and  hastened  out  only  in  time  to  clamber  into 
his  seat  as  Merwyn  drove  furiously  away  in  the  rain  and 
darkness.  Every  moment  the  trembling  lackey  expected 
they  would  all  go  to  wreck  and  ruin,  but  the  sagacious 
animals  were  given  their  heads,  and  speedily  made  their 
way  home. 

The  man  took  the  reeking  steeds  to  the  stable,  and  Mer- 


AWAKENED    AT   LAST  165 

wyn  disappeared.  He  did  not  enter  the  house,  for  he  felt 
that  he  would  stifle  there,  and  the  thought  of  meeting  his 
mother  was  intolerable.  Therefore,  he  stole  away  to  a  se- 
cluded avenue,  and  strode  back  and  forth  under  the  drip- 
ping trees,  oblivious,  in  his  fierce  perturbation,  of  outward 
discomfort. 

Mrs.  Merwyn  waited  in  vain  for  him  to  enter,  then  ques- 
tioned the  attendant. 

"Faix,  mum,  I  know  nothin'  at  all.  Mr.  Willard  druv 
home  loike  one  possessed,  and  got  out  at  the  door,  and 
that's  the  last  oi've  seen  uv  'im." 

The  lady  received  the  significant  tidings  with  mingled 
anxiety  and  satisfaction.  Two  things  were  evident.  He 
had  become  more  interested  in  Miss  Yosburgh  than  he 
had  admitted,  and  she,  by  strange  good  fortune,  had 
refused  him. 

"It  was  a  piece  of  folly  that  had  to  come  in  some  form,  I 
suppose,''  she  soliloquized,  "although  I  did  not  think  Wil- 
lard anything  like  so  sure  to  perpetrate  it  as  most  young 
men.  Well,  the  girl  has  saved  me  not  a  little  trouble,  for, 
of  course,  I  should  have  been  compelled  to  break  the  thing 
up;"  and  she  sat  down  to  watch  and  wait.  She  waited  so 
long  that  anxiety  decidedly  got  the  better  of  her  satisfaction. 

Meanwhile  the  object  of  her  thoughts  was  passing  through 
an  experience  of  which  he  had  never  dreamed.  In  one  brief 
hour  his  complacency,  pride,  and  philosophy  of  life  had  been 
torn  to  tatters.  He  saw  himself  as  Marian  saw  him,  and  he 
groaned  aloud  in  his  loathing  and  humiliation.  He  looked 
back  upon  his  superior  airs  as  ridiculous,  and  now  felt  that 
he  would  rather  be  a  private  in  Strahan's  company  than  the 
scorned  and  rejected  wretch  that  he  was.  The  passionate 
nature  inherited  from  his  mother  was  stirred  to  its  depths. 
Even  the  traits  which  he  believed  to  be  derived  from  his 
father,  and  which  the  calculating  lawyer  had  commended, 
had  secured  the  young  girl's  most  withering  contempt;  and 
he  saw  how  she  contrasted  him  with  her  father  and  Mr.  Lane 
— yes,  even  with  little  Strahan.      In   her   bitter  words  he 


166  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

heard  the  verdict  of  the  young  men  with  whom  he  had  as- 
sociated, and  of  the  community.  Throughout  the  summer 
he  had  dwelt  apart,  wrapped  in  his  own  self-sufficiency  and 
fancied  superiority.  His  views  had  been  of  gradual  growth, 
and  he  had  come  to  regard  them  as  infallible,  especially 
when  stamped  with  the  approval  of  his  father's  old  friend; 
but  the  scathing  words,  yet  ringing  in  his  ears,  showed  him 
that  brave,  conscientious  manhood  was  infinitely  more  than 
his  wealth  and  birth.  As  if  by  a  revelation  from  heaven 
he  saw  that  he  had  been  measuring  everything  with  the 
little  rule  of  self,  and  in  consequence  he  had  become  so 
mean  and  small  that  a  generous- hearted  girl  had  shrunk 
from  him  in  loathing. 

Then  in  bitter  anger  and  resentment  he  remembered  how 
he  was  trammelled  by  his  oath  to  his  mother.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  his  life  was  blighted  by  this  pledge  and  a  false 
education.  There  was  no  path  to  her  side  who  would  love 
and  honor  only  a  man. 

At  last  the  mere  physical  manifestations  of  passion  and 
excitement  began  to  pass  away,  and  he  felt  that  he  was  act- 
ing almost  like  one  insane  as  he  entered  the  house. 

Mrs.  Merwyn  met  him,  but  he  said,  hoarsely,  "I  cannot 
talk  with  you  to-night." 

11  Willard,  be  rational.  You  are  wet  through.  \xou  will 
catch  your  death  in  these  clothes." 

''Nothing  would  suit  me  better,  as  I  feel  now;"  and  he 
broke  away. 

He  was  so  haggard  when  he  came  down  late  the  next 
morning  that  his  mother  could  not  have  believed  such  a 
change  possible  in  so  short  a  time.  "It  is  going  to  be  more 
serious  than  I  thought,"  was  her  mental  comment  as  she 
poured  him  out  a  cup  of  coffee. 

It  was  indeed;  for  after  drinking  the  coffee  in  silence, 
he  looked  frowningly  out  of  the  window  for  a  time;  then 
said  abruptly  to  the  waiter,  "Leave  the  room." 

The  tone  was  so  stern  that  the  man  stole  out  with  a 
scared  look. 


AWAKENED    AT   LAST  167 

"Willard,"  began  Mrs.  Merwyn,  with  great  dignity, 
"you  are  acting  in  a  manner  unbecoming  your  birth  and 
breeding." 

Turning  from  the  window,  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  his 
mother  with  a  look  that  made  her  shiver. 

At  last  he  asked,  in  a  low,  stern  voice,  "Why  did  you 
bind  me  with  that  oath  ?" 

"Because  I  foresaw  some  unutterable  folly  such  as  you 
are  now  manifesting." 

"No,"  he  said,  in  the  same  cold,  hard  tone.  "It  was 
because  your  cursed  Confederacy  was  more  to  you  than  my 
freedom,  than  my  manhood — more  to  you  than  I  am  myself. " 

"Oh,  Willard!     What  ravings!" 

"Was  my  father  insane  when  he  quietly  insisted  on  his 
rights,  yielding  you  yours  ?  What  right  had  you  to  cripple 
my  life  ?' ' 

"I  took  the  only  effective  means  to  prevent  you  from 
doing  just  that  for  yourself. " 

"How  have  you  succeeded?" 

"I  have  prevented  you,  as  a  man  of  honor,  from  doing, 
under  a  gust  of  passion,  what  would  spoil  all  my  plans  and 
hopes." 

"lam  not  a  man.  You  have  done  your  best  to  prevent 
me  from  being  one.  You  have  bound  me  with  a  chain,  and 
made  me  like  one  of  the  slaves  on  your  plantation.  Your 
plans  and  hopes?     Have  I  no  right  to  plans  and  hopes?" 

"You  know  my  first  thought  has  been  of  you  and  for 
you." 

"No,  I  do  not  know  this.  I  now  remember  that,  when 
you  bound  me,  a  thoughtless,  selfish,  indolent  boy,  you 
said  that  you  would  have  torn  your  heart  out  rather  than 
marry  my  father  had  you  foreseen  what  was  coming.  This 
miserable  egotist,  Jeff  Davis,  and  his  scheme  of  empire,  cost 
what  it  may,  are  more  to  you  than  husband  or  child.  A 
mother  would  have  said:  'You  have  reached  manhood 
and  have  the  rights  of  a  man.  I  will  advise  you  and  seek 
to  guide  you.     You  know  my  feelings  and  views,  and  in 


168  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

their  behalf  I  will  even  entreat  you;  but  you  have  reached 
that  age  when  the  law  makes  you  free,  and  holds  you  ac- 
countable to  your  own  conscience.'  Of  what  value  is  my 
life  if  it  is  not  mine  ?  I  should  have  the  right  to  make 
my  own  life,  like  others." 

"You  have  the  right  to  make  it,  but  not  to  mar  it." 

"In  other  words,  your  prejudices,  your  fanaticism,  are 
to  take  the  place  of  my  conscience  and  reason.  You  expect 
me  to  carry  a  sham  of  manhood  out  into  the  world.  I  wish 
you  to  release  me  from  my  oath." 

"Never,"  cried  Mrs.  Merwyn,  with  a  passion  now  equal 
to  his  own.  "You  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  Delilah, 
and  she  has  shorn  you  of  your  manhood.  Infatuated  with 
a  nameless  Northern  girl,  you  would  blight  your  life  and 
mine.  When  you  come  to  your  senses  you  will  thank  me 
on  your  knees  that  I  interposed  an  oath  that  cannot  be 
broken  between  you  and  suicidal  folly;"  and  she  was 
about  to  leave  the  room. 

"Stop,"  he  said,  huskily.  ''When  I  bound  myself  I 
did  so  without  realizing  what  I  did.  I  was  but  a  boy, 
knowing  not  the  future.  I  did  it  out  of  mere  good- will  to 
you,  little  dreaming  of  the  fetters  you  were  forging.  Since 
you  will  not  release  me  and  treat  me  as  a  man  I  shall  keep 
the  oath.  I  swore  never  to  put  on  the  uniform  of  a  Union 
soldier,  or  to  step  on  Southern  soil  with  a  hostile  purpose, 
but  you  have  taught  me  to  detest  your  Confederacy  with 
implacable  hate;  and  I  shall  use  my  means,  my  influence, 
all  that  I  am,  to  aid  others  to  destroy  it." 

"What!  are  you  not  going  back  to  England  with  us?" 

"Yes." 

"Before  you  have  been  there  a  week  this  insane  mood 
will  pass  away." 

"Did  my  father's  moods  pass  away  ?" 

"Your  father — "  began  the  lady,  impetuously,  and  then 
hesitated. 

"My  father  always  yielded  you  your  just  rights  and 
maintained  his  own.     I  shall  imitate  his  example  as  far  as 


AWAKES  ED    AT   LAST  169 

I  now  may.  The  oath  is  a  thing  that  stands  by  itself.  It 
will  probably  spoil  my  life,  but  I  cannot  release  myself 
from  it." 

"You  leave  me  only  one  course,  Willard — to  bear  with 
you  as  if  you  were  a  passionate  child.  You  never  need 
hope  for  my  consent  to  an  alliance  with  the  under-bred 
creature  who  has  been  the  cause  of  this  folly." 

"Thank  you.  You  now  give  me  your  complete  idea  of 
my  manhood.  I  request  that  these  subjects  be  dismissed 
finally  between  us.  I  make  another  pledge— I  shall  be 
silent  whenever  you  broach  them;"  and  with  a  bow  he 
left  the  apartment. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  was  climbing  the  nearest  moun- 
tain, resolved  on  a  few  hours  of  solitude.  From  a  lofty 
height  he  could  see  the  little  Vosburgh  cottage,  and,  by 
the  aid  of  a  powerful  glass,  observed  that  the  pony  phaeton 
did  not  go  out  as  usual,  although  the  day  was  warm  and 
beautiful  after  the  storm. 

The  mists  of  passion  were  passing  from  his  mind,  and  in 
strong  reaction  from  his  violent  excitement  he  sank,  at  first, 
into  deep  depression.  So  morbid  was  he  that  he  cried 
aloud:  ;tOh,  my  father!  Would  to  God  that  you  had 
lived'  Where  are  you  that  you  can  give  no  counsel,  no 
help?" 

But  he  was  too  young  to  give  way  to  utter  despondency, 
and  at  last  his  mind  rallied  around  the  words  he  had  spoken 
to  Marian.  4tI  shall,  hereafter,  measure  everything  by  the 
breadth  of  your  woman's  soul." 

As  he  reviewed  the  events  of  the  summer  in  the  light  of 
recent  experience,  he  saw  how  strong,  unique,  and  noble  her 
character  was.  Faults  she  might  have  in  plenty,  but  she 
was  above  meannesses  and  mercenary  calculation.  The 
men  who  had  sought  her  society  had  been  incited  to  manly 
action,  and  beneath  all  the  light  talk  and  badinage  earnest 
and  heroic  purposes  had  been  formed;  he  meanwhile,  poor 
fo  >11  had  been  too  blinded  by  conceited  arrogance  to  under- 
stand what  was  taking  place.     He  had  so  misunderstood  her 


170  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

as  to  imagine  that  after  she  had  spent  a  summer  in  giving 
heroic  impulses  she  would  be  ready  to  form  an  alliance  that 
would  stultify  all  her  action,  and  lose  her  the  esteem  of  men 
who  were  proving  their  regard  in  the  most  costly  way.  He 
wondered  at  himself,  but  thought: 

"I  had  heard  so  much  about  financial  marriages  abroad 
that  I  had  gained  the  impression  that  no  girl  in  these  days 
would  slight  an  offer  like  mine.  Even  her  own  mother  was 
ready  enough  to  meet  my  views.  I  wonder  if  she  will  ever 
forgive  me,  ever  receive  me  again  as  a  guest,  so  that  I  can 
make  a  different  impression.  I  fear  she  will  always  think 
me  a  coward,  hampered  as  I  am  by  a  restraint  that  I  cannot 
break.  Well,  my  only  chance  is  to  take  up  life  from  her 
point  of  view,  and  to  do  the  best  I  can.  There  is  some- 
thing in  my  nature  which  forbids  my  ever  yielding  or  giv- 
ing up.  So  far  as  it  is  now  possible  I  shall  keep  my  word 
to  her,  and  if  she  has  a  woman's  heart  she  may,  in  time,  so 
far  relent  as  to  give  me  a  place  among  her  friends.  This  is 
now  my  ambition,  for,  if  I  achieve  this,  I  shall  know  I  am 
winning  such  manhood  as  I  can  attain." 

When  Merwyn  appeared  at  dinner  he  was  as  quiet  and 
courteous  as  if  nothing  had  happened;  but  his  mother  was 
compelled  to  note  that  the  boyishness  had  departed  out  of 
his  face,  and  in  its  strong  lines  she  recognized  his  growing 
resemblance  to  his  father. 

Two  weeks  later  he  accompanied  his  mother  and  sisters 
to  England.  Before  his  departure  he  learned  that  Marian 
had  been  seriously  ill,  but  was  convalescent,  and  that  her 
father  had  returned. 

Meantime  and  during  the  voyage,  with  the  differences 
natural  to  the  relation  of  mother  and  son,  his  manner  was 
so  like  that  of  his  father  toward  her  that  she  was  continu- 
ally reminded  of  the  past,  and  was  almost  led  to  fear  that 
she  had  made  a  grave  error  in  the  act  she  had  deemed  so 
essential.  But  her  pride  and  her  hopes  for  the  future  pre- 
vented all  concession. 

"When  he  is  once  more  in  society  abroad  this  freak  will 


AWAKENED    AT   LAST  171 

pass  away, ' '  she  thought,  ' ' and  some  English  beauty  will  con- 
sole him. 

But  after  they  were  well  established  in  a  pretty  villa 
near  congenial  acquaintances,  Merwyn  said  one  morning, 
"I  shall  return  to  New  York  next  week." 

"Willard!  how  can  you  think  of  such  a  thing?  I  was 
planning  to  spend  the  latter  part  of  the  winter  in  Rome." 

•'That  you  may  easily  do  with  your  knowledge  of  the 
city  and  your  wide  circle  of  friends. ' ' 

"But  we  need  you.  We  want  you  to  be  with  us,  and  I 
think  it  most  unnatural  in  you  to  leave  us  alone." 

"I  have  taken  no  oath  to  dawdle  around  Europe  indefi- 
nitely. I  propose  to  return  to  New  York  and  go  into  busi- 
ness. ' ' 

"You  have  enough  and  more  than  enough  already." 

"I  certainly  have  had  enough  of  idleness." 

"But  I  protest  against  it.     I  cannot  consent." 

"Mamma,"  he  said,  in  the  tone  she  so  well  remembered, 
"is  not  my  life  even  partially  my  own  ?  What  is  your  idea 
of  a  man  whom  both  law  and  custom  make  his  own  master  ? 
Even  as  a  woman  you  chose  for  yourself  at  the  proper  age. 
What  strange  infatuation  do  you  cherish  that  you  can  im- 
agine that  a  son  of  Willard  Merwyn  has  no  life  of  his  own 
to  live?  It  is  now  just  as  impossible  for  me  to  idle  away 
my  best  years  in  a  foreign  land  as  it  would  be  for  me  to 
return  to  my  cradle.  I  shall  look  after  your  interests  and 
comfort  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  and,  if  you  decide  to 
return  to  New  York,  you  shall  be  received  with  every 
courtesy." 

"I  shall  never  return  to  New  York.  I  would  much 
prefer  to  go  to  my  plantation  and  share  the  fortunes  of 
my  own  people." 

"I  supposed  you  would  feel  in  that  way,  and  I  will  do 
all  in  my  power  to  further  your  wishes,  whatever  they  may 
be.  My  wishes,  in  personal  matters,  are  now  equally  en- 
titled to  respect.  I  shall  carry  them  out;"  and  with  a  bow 
that  precluded  all  further  remonstrance  he  left  the  room. 


172  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

A  day  or  two  later  she  asked,  abruptly,  'Will  you  use 
your  means  and  influence  against  the  South?" 

"Yes." 

Mrs.  Merwyn's  face  became  rigid,  but  nothing  more  was 
said.  When  he  bade  her  good-by  there  was  an  evident 
struggle  in  her  heart,  but  she  repressed  all  manifestations 
of  feeling,  and  mother  and  son  parted. 


COMING    TO    THE    POINT  173 


CHAPTER   XVII 

COMING   TO   THE   POINT 

WHEN  the  tide  has  long  been  rising  the  time  comes 
for  it  to  recede.  From  the  moment  of  Marian's 
awakening  to  a  desire  for  a  better  womanhood, 
she  had  been  under  a  certain  degree  of  mental  excitement 
and  exaltation.  This  condition  had  culminated  with  the 
events  that  wrought  up  the  loyal  North  into  suspense, 
anguish,  and  stern,  relentless  purpose. 

While  these  events  had  a  national  and  world-wide  sig- 
nificance, they  also  pressed  closely,  in  their  consequences, 
on  individual  life.  It  has  been  shown  how  true  this  was  in 
the  experience  of  Marian.  Her  own  personal  struggle  alone, 
in  which  she  was  combating  the  habits  and  weakness  of  the 
past,  would  not  have  been  a  trivial  matter — it  never  is  when 
there  is  earnest  endeavor — but,  in  addition  to  this,  her  whole 
soul  had  been  kindling  in  sympathy  with  the  patriotic  fire 
that  was  impelling  her  dearest  friends  toward  danger  and 
possible  death.  Lane's,  Strahan's,  and  Blauvelt's  depar- 
ture, and  her  father's  peril,  had  brought  her  to  a  point 
that  almost  touched  the  limit  of  endurance.  Then  had 
come  the  man  whose  attentions  had  been  so  humiliating 
to  her  personally,  and  who  represented  to  her  the  genius  of 
the  Rebellion  that  was  bringing  her  such  cruel  experience. 
She  saw  his  spirit  of  condescension  even  in  his  offer  of  mar- 
riage; worse  still,  she  saw  that  he  belittled  the  conflict  in 
which  even  her  father  was  risking  his  life;  and  her  indigna- 
tion and  resentment  had  burst  forth  upon  him  with  a  power 
that  she  could  not  restrain. 


174  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

The  result  had  been  most  unexpected.  Instead  of  slink- 
ing away  overwhelmed  with  shame  and  confusion,  or  depart- 
ing in  haughty  anger,  Merwyn  had  revealed  to  her  that 
which  is  rarely  witnessed  by  any  one— the  awakening  of  a 
strong,  passionate  nature.  In  the  cynical,  polished,  self- 
pleasing  youth  was  something  of  which  she  had  not 
dreamed— of  which  he  was  equally  unaware.  Her  bitter 
words  pierced  through  the  strata  of  self-sufficiency  and 
pride  that  had  been  accumulating  for  years.  She  stabbed 
with  truth  the  outer  man  and  slew  it,  but  the  inner  and 
possible  manhood  felt  the  sharp  thrust  and  sprang  up 
wounded,  bleeding,  and  half  desperate  with  pain.  That 
which  wise  and  kindly  education  might  have  developed 
was  evoked  in  sudden  agony,  strong  yet  helpless,  over- 
whelmed with  the  humiliating  consciousness  of  what  had 
been,  and  seeing  not  the  way  to  what  she  would  honor. 
Yet  in  that  supreme  moment  the  instinct  asserted  itself  that 
she,  who  had  slain  his  meaner  self,  had  alone  the  power  to 
impart  the  impulse  toward  true  manhood  and  to  give  the 
true  measure  of  it.  Hence  a  declaration  so  passionate,  and 
an  appeal  so  full  of  his  immense  desire  and  need,  that  she 
was  frightened,  and  faltered  helplessly. 

In  the  following  weary  days  of  suffering  and  weakness, 
she  realized  that  she  was  very  human,  and  not  at  all  the 
exalted  heroine  that  she  had  unconsciously  come  to  regard 
herself.  The  suitor  whom  she  had  thought  to  dismiss  in 
contempt  and  anger,  and  to  have  done  with,  could  not  be 
banished  from  her  mind.  The  fact  that  he  had  proved  him- 
self  to  be  all  that  she  had  thought  him  did  not  satisfy  her, 
for  the  reason  that  he  had  apparently  shown  himself  to  be 
so  much  more.  She  had  judged  him  superficially,  and  pun- 
ished him  accordingly.  She  had  condemned  him  unspar- 
ingly for  traits  which,  except  for  a  few  short  months,  had 
been  her  own  characteristics.  While  it  was  true  that  they 
seemed  more  unworthy  in  a  man,  still  they  were  essentially 
the  same. 

"But  he  was  not  a  man,"  she  sighed.     "He  was  scarcely 


COMING    TO    THE   POINT  175 

more  than  the  selfish  boy  that  wealth,  indulgence,  and 
fashionable  life  had  made  him.  Why  was  I  so  blind  to 
this?  Why  could  I  not  have  seen  that  nothing  had  ever 
touched  him  deeply  enough  to  show  what  he  was,  or,  at 
least,  of  what  he  was  capable  ?  What  was  Strahan  before 
his  manhood  was  awakened  ?  A  little  gossiping  exquisite. 
Even  Mr.  Lane,  who  was  always  better  than  any  of  us,  has 
changed  wonderfully  since  he  has  had  exceptional  motives 
for  noble  action.  What  was  I,  myself,  last  June,  when  I 
was  amusing  myself  at  the  expense  of  a  man  whom  I  knew 
to  be  so  good  and  true  ?  In  view  of  all  this,  instead  of 
having  a  little  charity  for  Mr.  Merwyn,  who,  no  doubt, 
is  only  the  natural  product  of  the  influences  ol  his  life,  I 
only  tolerated  him  in  the  vindictive  hope  of  giving  the 
worst  blow  that  a  woman  can  inflict.  I  might  have  seen 
that  he  had  a  deeper  nature;  at  least,  I  might  have  hoped 
that  he  had,  and  given  him  a  chance  to  reveal  it.  Perhaps 
there  has  never  been  one  who  tried  to  help  him  toward  true 
manhood.  He  virtually  said  that  his  mother  was  a  Southern 
fanatic,  and  his  associations  have  been  with  those  abroad 
who  sympathized  with  her.  Is  it  strange  that  a  mere  boy 
of  twenty-one  should  be  greatly  influenced  by  his  mother 
and  her  aristocratic  friends  ?  He  said  his  father  was  a 
Northern  man,  and  he  may  have  imbibed  the  notion  that 
he  could  not  fight  on  either  side.  Well,  if  he  will  give  up 
such  a  false  idea,  if  he  will  show  that  he  is  not  cold-blooded 
and  calculating,  as  his  last  outbreak  seemed  to  prove,  and 
can  become  as  brave  and  true  a  soldier  as  Strahan,  I  will 
make  amends  by  treating  him  as  I  do  Strahan,  and  will  try 
to  feel  as  friendly  toward  him.  He  shall  not  have  the  right 
to  say  I'm  'not  a  woman  but  a  fanatic'  " 

She  proved  herself  a  woman  by  the  effort  to  make  ex- 
cuses for  one  toward  whom  she  had  been  severe,  by  her 
tendency  to  relent  after  she  had  punished  to  her  heart's 
content. 

"But,"  added  the  girl  aloud,  in  the  solitude  of  her  room, 
• 'while  I  may  give  him  my  hand  in  some  degree  of  kindli- 


176  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ness  and  friendship,  if  he  shows  a  different  spirit,  he  shall 
never  have  my  colors,  never  my  loyal  and  almost  sisterly 
love,  until  he  has  shown  the  courage  and  manhood  of  Mr. 
Lane  and  Mr.  Strahan.  They  shall  have  the  first  place  until 
a  better  knight  appears." 

When,  one  September  evening,  her  father  quietly  en- 
tered his  home  he  gave  her  an  impulse  toward  conva- 
lescence beyond  the  power  of  all  remedies.  There  were 
in  time  mutual  confidences,  though  his  were  but  partial, 
because  relating  to  affairs  foreign  to  her  life,  and  tending 
to  create  useless  anxieties  in  respect  to  the  future,  fie  was 
one  of  those  sagacious,  fearless  agents  whom  the  govern- 
ment, at  that  period,  employed  in  many  and  secret  ways. 
For  obvious  reasons  the  nature  and  value  of  their  services 
will  never  be  fully  known. 

Marian  was  unreserved  in  her  relation  of  what  had  oc- 
curred, and  her  father  smiled  and  reassured  her. 

41  In  one  sense  you  are  right,"  he  said.  "We  should  have 
a  broader,  kindlier  charity  for  all  sorts  of  people,  and  re- 
member that,  since  we  do  not  know  their  antecedents  and 
the  influences  leading  to  their  actions,  we  should  not  be 
hasty  to  judge.  Your  course  might  have  been  more  Chris- 
tian-like toward  young  Merwyn,  it  is  true.  Coming  from 
you,  however,  in  your  present  state  of  development,  it  was 
very  natural,  and  I'm  not  sure  but  he  richly  deserved  your 
words.  If  he  has  good  mettle  he  will  be  all  the  better  for 
them.  If  he  spoke  from  mere  impulse  and  goes  back  to  his 
old  life  and  associations,  I'm  glad  my  little  girl  was  loyal 
and  brave  enough  to  lodge  in  his  memory  truths  that  he 
won't  forget.  Take  the  good  old  doctrine  to  your  relenting 
heart  and  don't  forgive  him  until  he  'brings  forth  fruits 
meet  for  repentance.'  I'm  proud  of  you  that  you  gave  the 
young  aristocrat  such  a  wholesome  lesson  in  regard  to  gen- 
uine American  manhood  and  womanhood." 

Mrs.  Vosburgh's  reception  of  her  husband  was  a  blend- 
ing of  welcome  and  reproaches.  What  right  had  he  to  over- 
whelm them  with  anxiety,  etc.,  etc.? 


COMIX  G    TO    THE   P01ST  177 

"The  right  of  about  a  million  men  who  are  taking  part  in 
the  struggle,"  he  replied,  laughing  at  her  good-naturedly. 

"But  I  can't  permit  or  endure  it  any  longer,"  said  his 
wife,  and  there  was  irritation  in  her  protest. 

41  Well,  my  dear,"  he  replied,  with  a  shrug,  "I  must  re- 
main among  the  eccentric  millions  who  continue  to  act  ac- 
cording to  their  own  judgment." 

"Mamma!"  cried  Marian,  who  proved  that  she  was  get- 
ting well  by  a  tendency  to  speak  sharply,  "do  you  wish 
papa  to  be  poorer-spirited  than  any  of  the  million  ?  What 
kind  of  a  man  would  he  be  should  he  reply,  'Just  as  you 
say,  my  dear;  I've  no  conscience,  or  will  of  my  own?'  I  do 
not  believe  that  any  girl  in  the  land  will  suffer  more  than 
I  when  those  I  love  are  in  danger,  but  I'd  rather  die 
than  blockade  the  path  of  duty  with  my  love." 

"Yes,  and  some  day  when  you  are  fatherless  you  may 
repent  those  words,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Vosburgh. 

"This  will  not  answer,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh,  in  a  tone 
that  quieted  both  mother  and  daughter,  who  at  this  stage 
were  inclined  to  be  a  little  hysterical.  "A  moment's  ra- 
tional thought  will  convince  you  that  words  cannot  influ- 
ence me.  I  know  exactly  what  I  owe  to  you  and  to  my 
country,  and  no  earthly  power  can  change  my  course  a 
hair's  breadth.  If  I  should  be  brought  home  dead  to- 
morrow, Marian  would  not  have  the  shadow  of  a  reason 
for  self-reproach.  She  would  have  no  more  to  do  with  it 
than  with  the  sunrise.  Your  feelings,  in  both  instances,  are 
natural  enough,  and  no  doubt  similar  scenes  are  taking 
place  all  over  the  land;  but  men  go  just  the  same,  as  they 
should  do  and  always  have  done  in  like  emergencies.  So 
wipe  away  your  tears,  little  women.  You  have  nothing  to 
cry  about  yet,  while  many  have." 

The  master  mind  controlled  and  quieted  them.  Mrs. 
Vosburgh  looked  at  her  husband  a  little  curiously,  and  it 
dawned  upon  her  more  clearly  than  ever  before  that  the 
man  whom  she  managed,  as  she  fancied,  was  taking  his  quiet, 
resolute  way  through  life  with  his  own  will  at  the  helm. 


178  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Marian  thought,  "Ah,  why  does  not  mamma  idolize 
such  a  man  and  find  her  best  life  in  making  the  most  of 
his  life?" 

She  had,  as  yet,  scarcely  grasped  the  truth  that,  as  dis- 
ease enfeebles  the  body,  so  selfishness  disables  the  mind, 
robbing  it  of  the  power  to  care  for  others,  or  to  understand 
them.  In  a  sense  Mr.  Vosburgh  would  always  be  a  stranger 
to  his  wife.  He  had  philosophically  and  patiently  accepted 
the  fact,  and  was  making  the  best  of  the  relation  as  it 
existed. 

It  was  now  decided  that  the  family  should  return  at  once 
to  their  city  home.  Mr.  Yosburgh  had  a  few  days  of  leisure 
to  superintend  the  removal,  and  then  his  duties  would  be- 
come engrossing. 

The  evening  before  their  departure  was  one  of  mild, 
charming  beauty,  and  as  the  dining-room  was  partially  dis- 
mantled, it  was  Mr.  Yosburgh 's  fancy  to  have  the  supper- 
table  spread  on  the  veranda.  The  meal  was  scarcely  finished 
when  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  man  appeared  at  the  foot  of 
the  steps,  and  Sally,  the  pretty  waitress,  manifested  a  blush- 
ing consciousness  of  his  presence. 

"Wud  Mr.  Yosburgh  let  me  spake  to  him  a  moment?" 
began  the  stranger. 

Marian  recognized  the  voice  that,  from  the  shrubbery, 
had  given  utterance  to  the  indignant  protest  against  traits 
which  had  once  characterized  her  own  life  and  motives. 
Thinking  it  possible  that  her  memory  was  at  fault,  she 
glanced  at  Sally's  face  and  the  impression  was  confirmed. 
"What  ages  have  passed  since  that  June  evening!"  she 
thought. 

"Is  it  anything  private,  my  man?"  asked  Mr. Yosburgh, 
pushing  back  his  chair  and  lighting  a  cigar. 

"Faix,  zur,  it's  nothin'  oi'm  ashamed  on.  I  wish  to  lave 
the  country  and  get  a  place  on  the  perlace  force,"  repeated 
the  man,  with  an  alacrity  which  showed  that  he  wished 
Sally  to  hear  his  request. 

"You  look  big  and  strong  enough  to  handle  most  men." 


COMING    TO    TEE   POINT  179 

4 'Ye  may  well  say  that,  zur;  oi've  not  sane  the  man  yit 
that  oi  was  afeared  on. ' ' 

Sally  chuckled  over  her  knowledge  that  this  was  not  true 
in  respect  to  womeo,  while  Marian  whispered  to  her  father: 
"Secure  him  the  place  if  you  can,  papa.  You  owe  a  great 
deal  to  him  and  so  do  I,  although  he  does  not  know  it. 
This  is  the  man  whose  words,  spoken  to  Sally,  disgusted 
me  with  my  old  life.     Don't  you  remember?" 

Mr.  Vosburgh's  eyes  twinkled,  as  he  shot  a  swift  glance 
at  Sally,  whose  face  was  redder  than  the  sunset.  The  man's 
chief  attraction  to  the  city  was  apparent. 

"What's  your  name ?"  the  gentleman  asked. 

"Barney  Ghegan,  zur." 

"Are  you  perfectly  loyal  to  the  North?  Will  you  help 
carry  out  the  laws,  even  against  your  own  flesh  and  blood, 
if  necessary  ?" 

"Oi'll  'bey  orders,  zur,"  replied  the  man,  emphatically. 
"Oi've  come  to  Amarekay  to  stay,  and  oi'll  stan'  by  the 
goovernment. " 

"Can  you  bring  me  a  certificate  of  your  character?" 

"Oi  can,  zur,  for  foive  years  aback." 

"Bring  it  then,  Barney,  and  you  shall  go  on  the  force; 
for  you're  a  fine,  strong- looking  man — the  kind  needed  in 
these  days, ' '  said  Mr.  Yosburgh,  glad  to  do  a  good  turn  for 
one  who  unwittingly  had  rendered  him  so  great  a  service, 
and  also  amused  at  this  later  aspect  of  the  affair. 

This  amusement  was  greatly  enhanced  by  observing  Bar- 
ney's proud,  triumphant  glance  at  Sally.  Turning  quickly 
to  note  its  effect  on  the  girl,  Mr.  Yosburgh  caught  the  co- 
quettish maid  in  the  act  of  making  a  grimace  at  her  much- 
tormented  suitor. 

Sally's  face  again  became  scarlet,  and  in  embarrassed 
haste  she  began  to  clear  the  table. 

Barney  was  retiring  slowly,  evidently  wishing  for  an 
interview  with  his  elusive  charmer  before  he  should  return 
to  his  present  employers,  and  Mr.  Yosburgh  good-naturedly 
put  in  a  word  in  his  favor. 


180  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Stay,  Barney,  and  have  some  supper  before  you  go 
home.  In  behalf  of  Mrs.  Vosburgh  I  give  you  a  cordial 
invitation. ' ' 

"Yes,"  added  the  lady,  who  had  been  quietly  laughing. 
"Now  that  you  are  to  be  so  greatly  promoted  we  shall  be 
proud  to  have  you  stay. " 

Barney  doffed  his  hat  and  exclaimed,  "  Long  loife  to  yez 
all,  espacially  to  the  swate-faced  young  leddy  that  first  spoke 
a  good  wourd  for  me,  oi'm  a-thinkin';"  and  he  stepped 
lightly  around  to  the  rear  of  the  house. 

"Sally,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh,  with  preternatural  gravity. 

The  girl  courtesied  and  nearly  dropped  a  dish. 

"Mr.  Barney  Ghegan  will  soon  be  receiving  a  large 
salary. ' ' 

Sally  courtesied  again,  but  her  black  eyes  sparkled  as 
she  whisked  the  rest  of  the  things  from  the  table  and  disap- 
peared. She  maintained  her  old  tactics  during  supper  and 
before  the  other  servants,  exulting  in  the  fact  that  the  big, 
strong  man  was  on  pins  and  needles,  devoid  of  appetite  and 
peace. 

"  'Afeared  o'  no  mon,'  he  says,"  she  thought,  smilingly. 
"He's  so  afeared  o'  me  that  he's  jist  a-tremblin'." 

After  her  duties  were  over,  Barney  said,  mopping  his 
brow:  "Faix,  but  the  noight  is  warm.  A  stroll  in  the  air 
wudn't  be  bad,  oi'm  a-thinkin'." 

"Oi'm  cool  as  a  cowcumber,"  remarked  Sally.  "We'll 
wait  for  ye  till  ye  goes  out  and  gits  cooled  off;"  and  she 
sat  down  complacently,  while  the  cook  and  the  laundress 
tittered. 

An  angry  sparkle  began  to  assert  itself  in  Barney's  blue 
eyes,  and  he  remarked  dryly,  as  he  took  his  hat,  "Yez moight 
wait  longer  than  jez  bargained  for." 

The  shrewd  girl  saw  that  she  was  at  the  length  of  her 
chain,  and  sprang  up,  saying:  "Oh,  well,  since  the  mistress 
invited  ye  so  politely,  ye's  company,  and  it's  me  duty  to 
thry  to  entertain  ye.  Where  shall  we  go?"  she  added, 
as  she  passed  out  with  him. 


COMING    TO    THE    POINT  181 

'To  the  rustic  sate,  sure.     Where  else  shud  we  go  ?" 

"A  rustic  sate  is  a  quare  place  for  a  stroll." 

"Oi  shall  have  so  much  walkin'  on  me  bate  in  New- 
York,  that  it's  well  to  begin  settin'  down  aready,  oi'm 
a-thinkin'." 

"Why,  Barney,  ye're  going  to  be  a  reg'lar  tramp. 
Who'd  'a  thought  that  ye'd  come  down  to  that." 

4 'Ah I  arrah,  wid  ye  nonsense!  Sit  ye  down  here,  for 
oi'm  a-goin'  to  spake  plain  the  noight.  Noo,  by  the  Holy 
Vargin,  oi'm  in  arenest.  Are  ye  goin'  to  blow  hot,  or  are 
ye  goin'  to  blow  could?" 

"Considerin'  the  hot  night,  Barney,  wouldn't  it  be  better 
for  me  to  blow  could  ?" 

Barney  scratched  his  head  in  perplexity.  "Ye  know 
what  I  mane,"  he  ejaculated. 

"Where  will  ye  foind  the  girl  that  tells  all  she 
knows?" 

"Oh,  Sally,  me  darlint,  what's  the  use  of  batin'  around 
the  bush  ?  Ye  know  that  a  cat  niver  looked  at  crame  as  oi 
look  on  ye,"  said  Barney,  in  a  wheedling  tone,  and  trying 
the  tactics  of  coaxing  once  more. 

He  sat  down  beside  her  and  essayed  with  his  insinuating 
arm  to  further  his  cause  as  his  words  had  not  done. 

"Ar^ah,  noo,  Barney  Ghegan,  what  liberties  wud  ye  be 
takin'  wid  a  respectable  girl  ?"  and  she  drew  away  decidedly. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  exploded  in  the  words:  "Sally 
Maguire,will  ye  be  me  woife  ?  By  the  holy  poker!  Answer, 
yis  or  no." 

Sally  rose,  also,  and  in  equally  pronounced  tones  replied: 
"Yes,  Barney  Ghegan,  I  will,  and  I'll  be  a  good  and  faith- 
ful one,  too.  It's  yeself  that's  been  batin'  round  the  bush. 
Did  ye  think  a  woman  was  a-goin'  to  chase  ye  over  hill  and 
down  dale  and  catch  ye  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck?  What 
do  ye  take  me  for?" 

"Oi  takes  ye  for  better,  Sally,  me  darlint;"  and  then 
followed  sounds  suggesting  the  popping  of  a  dozen  cham- 
pagne corks. 


182  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Mr.  Vosburgh,  his  wife,  and  Marian  had  been  chatting 
quietly  on  the  piazza,  unaware  of  the  scene  taking  place  in 
the  screening  shrubbery  until  Barney's  final  question  had 
startled  the  night  like  a  command  to  "stand  and  deliver." 

Repressing  laughter  with  difficulty  they  tiptoed  into  the 
house  and  closed  the  door. 


A    GIRL'S    STANDARD  183 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
A   girl's   standard 

THE  month  of  September,  1862,  was  a  period  of  strong 
excitement  and  profound  anxiety  on  both  sides  of 
the  vague  and  shifting  line  which  divided  the  loyal 
North  from  the  misguided  but  courageous  South.     During 
the  latter  part  of  August,  General   Pope   had   been  over- 
whelmed  with  disaster,  and  what  was  left  of  his  heroic  army 
was  driven  within  the  fortifications  erected  for  the  defence 
of   Washington.      Apparently   the   South    had    unbounded 
cause  for  exultation.     But  a  few  weeks  before  their  capi- 
tal had  been  besieged  by  an  immense  army,  while  a  little 
to  the  north,  upon  the  Rappahannock,  rested  another  Union 
army  which,  under  a  leader  like  Stonewall  Jackson,  would 
have  been  formidable  enough  in  itself  to  tax  Lee's  skill  and 
strength  to  the  utmost.     Except  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  the  capital  and  Fortress  Monroe  scarcely  a  National  sol- 
dier had   been  left  in  Virginia.     The   Confederates  might 
proudly  claim  that  the  generalship  of  Lee  and  the  audacity 
of  Jackson  had  swept  the  Northern  invaders  from  the  State. 
Even  more  important  than  the  prestige  and  glory  won 
was  the  fact  that  the  Virginian  farmers  were  permitted  to 
gather  their  crops  unmolested.     The  rich  harvests  of  the 
Shenandoah  Valley  and  other  regions,  that  had  been  and 
should  have  been  occupied  by  National  troops,  were  allowed 
to  replenish  the  Confederate  granaries.     There  were  rejoic- 
ings and  renewed  confidence  in  Southern  homes,  and  smiles 
of  triumph  on  the  faces  of  sympathizers  abroad  and  through- 
out the  North. 


184  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

But  the  astute  leaders  of  the  Eebellion  were  well  aware 
that  the  end  had  not  yet  come,  and  that,  unless  some  bold, 
paralyzing  blow  was  struck,  the  struggle  was  but  fairly  be- 
gun. In  response  to  the  request  for  more  men  new  armies 
were  springing  up  at  the  N  orth.  The  continent  shook  under 
the  tread  of  hosts  mustering  with  the  stern  purpose  that  the 
old  flag  should  cover  every  inch  of  the  heritage  left  by  our 
fathers. 

Therefore,  Lee  was  not  permitted  to  remain  on  the  defen- 
sive a  moment,  but  was  ordered  to  cross  the  Potomac  in  the 
rear  of  Washington,  threatening  that  city  and  Baltimore. 
It  was  supposed  that  the  advent  of  a  Southern  army  into 
Maryland  would  create  such  an  enthusiastic  uprising  that 
thinned  ranks  would  be  recruited,  and  the  State  brought 
into  close  relation  with  the  Confederate  Government.  These 
expectations  were  not  realized.  The  majority  sympathized 
with  Barbara  Frietchie, 

•'Bravest  of  all  in  Frederick  town," 

rather  than  with  their  self-styled  deliverers;  and  Lee  lost 
more  by  desertion  from  his  own  ranks  than  he  gained  in 
volunteers.  In  this  same  town  of  Frederick,  by  strange 
carelessness  on  the  part  of  the  rebels,  was  left  an  order 
which  revealed  to  McClellan  Lee's  plans  and  the  positions 
which  his  divided  army  were  to  occupy  during  the  next  few 
days.  Rarely  has  history  recorded  such  opportunities  as 
were  thus  accidentally  given  to  the  Union  commander. 

The  ensuing  events  proved  that  McClellan's  great  need 
was  not  the  re-enforcements  for  which  he  so  constantly  clam- 
ored, but  decision  and  energy  of  character.  Had  he  pos- 
sessed these  qualities  he  could  have  won  for  himself,  from 
the  fortuitous  order  which  fell  into  his  hands,  a  wreath  of 
unfading  laurel,  and  perhaps  have  saved  almost  countless 
lives  of  his  fellow-countrymen.  As  it  was,  if  he  had  only 
advanced  his  army  a  little  faster,  the  twelve  thousand  Union 
soldiers,  surrendered  by  the  incompetent  and  pusillanimous 
General  Miles,  would  have  been  saved  from  the  horrors  of 


A    GIRLS   STANDARD  185 

captivity  and  secured  as  a  valuable  re-enforcement.    To  the 
very  last,  fortune  appeared  bent  on  giving  him  opportunity. 
The  partial  success  won  on  the  17th  of  September,  at  the 
battle  of  Antietam,  might  easily  have  been  made  a  glorious 
victory  if  McClellan  had  had  the  vigor  to  put  in  enough 
troops,  especially  including  Burnside's  corps,  earlier  in  the 
day.     Again,  on  the  morning  of  the  18th,  he  had  only  to 
take  the  initiative,  as  did  Grant  after  the  first  day's  fighting 
at  Shiloh,  and  Lee  could  scarcely  have  crossed  the  Potomac 
with  a  corporal's  guard.     But,  as  usual,  he  hesitated,  and 
the  enemy  that  robbed  him  of  one  of  the  highest  places  in 
history  was  not  the  Confederate  general  or  his  army,  but  a 
personal  trait— indecision.     In  the  dawn  of  the  19th  he  sent 
out  his  cavalry  to  reconnoitre,  and  learned  that  his  antago- 
nist  was  safe  in  Virginia.     Fortune,  wearied  at  last,  finally 
turned  her  back  upon   her   favorite.     The  desperate   and 
bloody  battle  resulted  in  little  else  than  the  ebb  of  the  tide 
of  war  southward.      Northern  people,  it  is  true,   breathed 
more  freely.    Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  and  Washington  were 
safe  for  the  present,  but  this  seemed  a  meagre  reward  for 
millions  of  treasure  and  tens  of  thousands  of  lives,  especially 
when  the  capture  of  Richmond  and  the  end  of  the  Rebellion 
had  been  so  confidently  promised. 

If  every  village  and  hamlet  in  the  land  was  profoundly 
stirred  by  these  events,  it  can  well  be  understood  that  the 
commercial  centre  of  New  York  throbbed  like  an  irritated 
nerve  under  the  telegraph  wires  concentring  there  from  the 
scenes  of  action.  Every  possible  interest,  every  variety  of 
feeling,  was  touched  in  its  vast  and  heterogeneous  popula- 
tion,  and  the  social  atmosphere  was  electrical  with  excite- 
ment. 

From  her  very  constitution,  now  that  she  had  begun  to 
comprehend  the  nature  of  the  times,  Marian  Vosburgh  could 
not  breathe  this  air  in  tranquillity.  She  was,  by  birthright, 
a  spirited,  warm-hearted  girl,  possessing  all  a  woman's  dis- 
position toward  partisanship.  Everything  during  the  past 
few  months  had  tended  to  awaken  a  deep  interest  in  the 


186  AN    ORIGINAL   BELLE 

struggle,  and  passing  events  intensified  it.  Not  only  in 
the  daily  press  did  she  eagerly  follow  the  campaign,  but 
from  her  father  she  learned  much  that  was  unknown  to  the 
general  public.  To  a  girl  of  mind  the  great  drama  in  itself 
could  not  fail  to  become  absorbing,  but  when  it  is  remem- 
bered that  those  who  had  the  strongest  hold  upon  her  heart 
were  imperilled  actors  in  the  tragedy,  the  feeling  with  which 
she  watched  the  shifting  scenes  may  in  some  degree  be  ap- 
preciated. She  often  saw  her  father's  brow  clouded  with 
deep  anxiety,  and  dreaded  that  each  new  day  might  bring 
orders  which  would  again  take  him  into  danger. 

While  the  letters  of  her  loyal  friend,  Lane,  veiled  all 
that  was  hard  and  repulsive  in  his  service,  she  knew  that 
the  days  of  drill  and  equipment  would  soon  be  over,  and 
that  the  new  regiment  must  participate  in  the  dangers  of 
active  duty.  This  was  equally  true  of  Strahan  and  Blau- 
velt  She  laughed  heartily  over  their  illustrated  journal, 
which,  in  the  main,  gave  the  comic  side  of  their  life.  But 
she  never  laid  it  aside  without  a  sigh,  for  she  read  much 
between  the  lines,  and  knew  that  the  hour  of  battle  was 
rapidly  approaching.  Thus  far  they  had  been  within  the 
fortifications  at  Washington,  for  the  authorities  had  learned 
the  folly  of  sending  undisciplined  recruits  to  the  front. 

At  last,  when  the  beautiful  month  of  October  was  ended, 
and  Lee's  shattered  army  was  rested  and  reorganized,  Mc- 
Clellan  once  more  crossed  the  Potomac.  Among  the  re-en- 
forcements sent  to  him  were  the  regiments  of  which  Lane 
and  Strahan  were  members.  The  letters  of  her  friends 
proved  that  they  welcomed  the  change  and  with  all  the 
ardor  of  brave,  loyal  men  looked  forward  to  meeting  the 
enemy.  In  heart  and  thought  she  went  with  them,  but  a 
sense  of  their  danger  fell,  like  a  shadow,  across  her  spirit. 
She  appeared  years  older  than  the  thoughtless  girl  for  whom 
passing  pleasure  and  excitement  had  been  the  chief  motives 
of  life;  but  in  the  strengthening  lines  of  her  face  a  womanly 
beauty  was  developing  which  caused  even  strangers  to  turn 
and  glance  after  her. 


A    GIRL'S   STANDARD  187 

If  Merwyn  still  retained  some  hold  upon  her  thoughts 
and  curiosity,  so  much  could  scarcely  be  said  of  her  sym- 
pathy.    He  had  disappeared  from  the  moment  when  she 
had  harshly  dismissed  him,  and  she  was   beginning  to  feel 
that  she  had  been  none  too  severe,  and  to  believe  that  his 
final  words  had  been  spoken  merely  from  impulse.     If  he 
were  amusing  himself  abroad,  Marian,  in  her  intense  loy- 
alty, would  despise  him;  if  he  were  permitting  himself  to 
be  identified  with  his  mother's  circle  of  Southern  sympa- 
thizers, the  young  girl's  contempt  would  be  tinged  with 
detestation.     He   had  approached  her  too  nearly,  and  hu- 
miliated her  too  deeply,  to  be  readily  forgotten  or  forgiven. 
His  passionate  outbreak  at  last  had  been  so  intense  as  to 
awaken  strong  echoes  in  her  woman's  soul.     If  return  to  a 
commonplace  fashionable  life  was  to  be  the  only  result  of 
the  past,  she  would  scarcely  ever  think  of  him  without  an 
angry  sparkle  in  her  eyes. 

After  she  had  learned  that  her  friends  were  in  the  field 
and  therefore  exposed  to  the  dangers  of  battle  at  any  time, 
she  had  soliloquized,  bitterly:  "He  promised  to  'measure 
everything  by  the  breadth  of  my  woman's  soul.'  What 
does  he  know  about  a  true  woman's  soul?  He  has  un- 
doubtedly found  his  selfish  nature  and  his  purse  more  con- 
venient gauges  of  the  world.  Well,  he  knows  of  one  girl 
who  cannot  be  bought." 

Her  unfavorable  impression  was  confirmed  one  cold 
November  morning.  Passing  down  Madison  Avenue,  hert 
casual  attention  was  attracted  by  the  opening  of  a  door  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  She  only  permitted  her 
swift  glance  to  take  in  the  fact  that  it  was  Merwyn  who 
descended  the  steps  and  entered  an  elegant  coupe  driven  by 
a  man  in  a  plain  iivery.  After  the  vehicle  had  been  whirled 
away,  curiosity  prompted  her  to  retrace  her  steps  that  she 
might  look  more  closely  at  the  residence  of  the  man  who 
had  asked  her  to  be  his  wife.  It  was  evidently  one  of  the 
finest  and  most  substantial  houses  on  the  avenue. 

A  frown  contracted  the  young  girl's   brow  as  she  mut- 


188  AN  ORIGINAL   BELLE 

tered:  "He  aspired  to  my  hand — he,  who  fares  sumptu- 
ously in  than  brown-stone  palace  while  such  men  as  Mr. 
Lane  are  fortunate  to  have  a  canvas  roof  over  their  heads. 
He  had  the  narrownes  of  mind  to  half-despise  Arthur  Stra- 
han,  who  left  equal  luxury  to  face  every  danger  and  hard- 
ship. Thank  Heaven  I  planted  some  memories  in  his  snob- 
bish soul!" 

Thereafter  she  avoided  that  locality. 

In  the  evening,  with  words  scarcely  less  bitter,  she  men- 
tioned to  her  father  the  fact  that  she  had  seen  Merwyn  and 
his  home. 

Mr.  Vosburgh  smiled  and  said,  "You  have  evidently  lost 
all  compunctions  in  regard  to  your  treatment  of  the  young 
fellow." 

"I  have,  indeed.  The  battle  of  Antietam  alone  would 
place  a  Red  Sea  between  me  and  any  young  American  who 
can  now  live  a  life  of  selfish  luxury.  Think  how  thousands 
of  our  brave  men  will  sleep  this  stormy  night  on  the  cold, 
rain-soaked  ground,  and  then  think  of  his  cold-blooded  in- 
difference to  it  all!" 

"Why  think  of  him  at  all,  Marian?"  her  father  asked, 
with  a  quizzical  smile. 

The  color  deepened  slightly  in  her  face  as  she  replied: 
"Why  shouldn't  i  think  of  him  to  some  extent?  He  has 
crossed  my  path  in  no  ordinary  way.  His  attentions  at  first 
were  humiliating,  and  he  awakened  an  antipathy  such  as  1 
never  felt  toward  any  one  before.  He  tried  to  belittle  you, 
my  friends,  and  the  cause  to  which  you  are  devoted.  Then, 
when  I  told  him  the  truth  about  himself,  he  appeared  to 
have  manhood  enough  to  comprehend  it.  His  words  made 
me  think  of  a  man  desperately  wounded,  and  my  sympa- 
thies were  touched,  and  I  felt  that  I  had  been  unduly 
severe  and  all  that.  In  fact,  I  was  overwrought,  ill,  mor- 
bid, conscience-stricken  as  I  remembered  my  own  past  life, 
and  he  appeared  to  feel  what  I  said  so  awfully  that  I  couldn't 
forget  it.  I  had  silly  dreams  and  hopes  that  he  would  as- 
sert his  manhood  and   take  a   loyal  part  in  the  struggle. 


A    GIRL'S   STANDARD  189 

But  what  has  been  his  course  ?  So  far  as  I  can  judge,  it 
has  been  in  keeping  with  his  past.  Settling  down  to  a  life 
of  ease  and  money-making  here  would  be  little  better,  in 
my  estimation,  than  amusing  himself  abroad.  It  would 
be  simply  another  phase  of  following  his  own  mood  and 
inclinations;  and  I  shall  look  upon  his  outburst  and  appeal 
as  hysterical  rather  than  passionate  and  sincere." 

Mr.  Vosburgh  listened,  with  a  half- amused  expression, 
to  his  daughter's  indignant  and  impetuous  words,  but  only 
remarked,  quietly,  ''Suppose  you  find  that  you  have  judged 
Mr.  Merwyn  unjustly?" 

"I  don't  think  I  have  done  so.  At  any  rate,  one  can 
only  judge  from  what  one  knows." 

"Stick  to  that.  Your  present  impressions  and  feelings 
do  you  credit,  and  I  am  glad  that  your  friends'  loyal  devo- 
tion counts  for  more  in  your  esteem  than  Merwyn's  wealth. 
Still,  in  view  of  your  scheme  of  life  to  make  the  most  and 
best  of  men  of  brains  and  force,  I  do  not  think  you  have 
given  the  young  nabob  time  and  opportunity  to  reveal  him- 
self fully.  He  may  have  recently  returned  from  England, 
and,  since  his  mother  was  determined  to  reside  abroad,  it 
was  his  duty  to  establish  her  well  before  returning.  You 
evidently  have  not  dismissed  him  from  your  thoughts. 
Since  that  is  true,  do  not  condemn  him  utterly  until  you 
see  what  he  does.      What  if  he  again  seeks  your  society?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,  papa.  As  I  feel  to-night  I  never 
wish  to  see  him  again." 

"I'm  not  sure  of  that,  little  girl.  You  are  angry  and 
vindictive.  If  he  were  a  nonentity  you  would  be  indif- 
ferent." 

"Astute  papa!  The  very  fact  perplexes  me.  But 
haven't  I  explained  why  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  him 
to  some  extent?" 

"No,  not  even  to  yourself." 

Marian  bit  her  lip  with  something  like  vexation,  then 
said,  reproachfully,  "Papa,  you  can't  think  that  I  care 
for  him?" 


190  ^Ar   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Oh,  no — not  in  the  sense  indicated  by  your  tone.  Bat 
your  silly  dreams  and  hopes,  as  you  characterize  them, 
have  taken  a  stronger  hold  upon  you  than  you  realize. 
You  are  disappointed  as  well  as  angry.  You  have  enter- 
tained the  thought  that  he  might  do  something,  or  become 
more  in  harmony  with  the  last  words  he  spoke  to  you." 

"Well,  he  hasn't" 

"You  have  not  yet  given  him  sufficient  time,  perhaps. 
I  shall  not  seek  to  influence  you  in  the  matter,  but  the 
question  still  presents  itself:  What  if  he  again  seeks  your 
society  and  shows  a  disposition  to  make  good  his  words?" 

"I  shall  not  show  him,"  replied  Marian,  proudly,  "greater 
favor  than  such  friends  as  Mr.  Lane  and  Mr.  Strahan  required. 
Without  being  influenced  by  me,  they  decided  to  take  part 
in  the  war.  After  they  had  taken  the  step  which  did  so 
much  credit  to  their  manly  courage  and  loyalty,  they  came 
and  told  me  of  it.  If  Mr.  Merwyn  should  show  equal 
spirit  and  patriotism  and  be  very  humble  in  view  of  the 
past,  I  should,  of  course,  feel  differently  toward  him.  If 
he  don't — "   and  the  girl  shook  her  head  ominously. 

Her  father  laughed  heartily.  "Why!"  he  exclaimed; 
"I  doubt  whether  in  all  the  sunny  South  there  is  such  a 
little  fire-eater  as  we  have  here." 

"No,  papa,  no,"  cried  Marian,  with  suddenly  moisten- 
ing eyes.  "I  regret  the  war  beyond  all  power  of  expres- 
sion. I  could  not  ask,  much  less  urge,  any  one  to  go,  and 
my  heart  trembles  and  shrinks  when  I  think  of  danger 
threatening  those  I  love.  But  I  honor— I  almost  worship 
—courage,  loyalty,  patriotism.  Do  you  think  I  can  ever 
love  any  one  as  I  do  you  ?  Yet  I  believe  you  would  go  to 
Richmond  to-morrow  if  you  were  so  ordered.  I  ask  nothing 
of  this  Merwyn,  or  of  any  one;  but  he  who  asks  my  friend- 
ship must  at  least  be  brave  and  loyal  enough  to  go  where 
my  father  would  lead.  Even  if  I  loved  a  man,  even  if  I 
were  married,  I  would  rather  that  the  one  /  loved  did 
all  a  man's  duty,  though  my  heart  was  broken  and  my 
life   blighted   in   consequence,  than   to   have    him   seeking 


A    Q1RVS    STANDARD  191 

safety  and  comfort  in  some  eminently  prudent,  temporizing 
course." 

Mr.  Vosburgh  put  his  arm  around  his  daughter,  as  he 
looked,  for  a  moment,  into  her  tear-dimmed  eyes,  then 
kissed  her  good-night,  and  said,  quietly,  "I  understand 
you,   Marian." 

"But,  papa!"  she  exclaimed,  in  sudden  remorsefulness, 
"you  won't  take  any  risks  that  you  can  honorably  escape?" 

"I  promise  you  I  won't  go  out  to-night  in  search  of  the 
nearest  recruiting  sergeant,"  replied  her  father,  with  a  reas- 
suring laugh. 


192  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER   XIX 

PROBATION    PROMISED 

MERWYN  had  been  in  the  city  some  little  time  when 
Marian,  unknown  to  him,  iearned  of  his  presence. 
He,  also,  had  seen  her  more  than  once,  and  while 
her  aspect  had  incressed  his  admiration  and  a  feeling  akin 
to  reverence,  it  had  also  disheartened  him.  To  a  degree 
unrecognized  by  the  girl  herself,  her  present  motives  and 
stronger  character  had  changed  the  expression  of  her  face. 
He  had  seen  her  when  unconscious  of  observation  and  pre- 
occupied by  thoughts  which  made  her  appear  grave  and  al- 
most stern,  and  he  was  again  assured  that  the  advantages 
on  which  he  had  once  prided  himself  were  as  nothing  to 
her  compared  with  the  loyalty  of  friends  now  in  Virginia. 
He  could  not  go  there,  nor  could  he  explain  why  he  must 
apparently  shun  danger  and  hardship.  He  felt  that  his 
oath  to  his  mother  would  be,  in  her  eyes,  no  extenuation 
of  his  conduct.  Indeed,  he  believed  that  she  would  regard 
the  fact  that  he  could  give  such  a  pledge  as  another  proof 
of  his  unworthiness  to  be  called  an  American.  How  could 
it  be  otherwise  when  he  himself  could  not  look  back  upon 
the  event  without  a  sense  of  deep  personal  humiliation  ? 

11 1  was  an  idiotic  fool  when  I  gave  away  manhood  and 
its  rights,"   he  groaned.     "My  mother  took  advantage  of 

me." 

In  addition  to  the  personal  motive  to  conceal  the  fact 
of  his  oath,  he  had  even  a  stronger  one.  The  revelation 
of  his  pledge  would  be  proof  positive  of  his  mother's  dis- 


PROBATION    PROMISED  193 

lovalty,  and  might  jeopardize  the  property  on  which  she 
and  his  sisters  depended  for  support.  Moreover,  while  he 
bitterly  resented  Mrs.  Merwyn's  course  toward  him  he  felt 
that  honor  and  family  loyalty  required  that  he  should  never 
speak  a  word  to  her  discredit.  The  reflection  implied  in  his 
final  words  to  Marian  had  been  wrung  from  him  in  the  agony 
of  a  wounded  spirit,  and  he  now  regretted  them.  Hence- 
forth he  would  hide  the  fetters  which  in  restraining  him 
from  taking  the  part  in  the  war  now  prompted  by  his  feel- 
ings also  kept  him  from  the  side  of  the  girl  who  had  won 
the  entire  allegiance  of  his  awakened  heart.  He  did  not 
know  how  to  approach  her,  and  feared  lest  a  false  step 
should  render  the  gulf  between  them  impassable.  He  saw 
that  her  pride,  while  of  a  different  character,  was  greater 
than  his  own  had  ever  been,  and  that  the  consideration  of 
his  birth  and  wealth,  which  he  had  once  dreamed  must  out- 
weigh all  things  else,  would  not  influence  her  in  the  slight- 
est degree.  Men  whom  she  regarded  as  his  equals  in  these 
respects  were  not  only  at  her  feet  but  also  facing  the  enemy 
as  her  loyal  knights,  flow  pitiable  a  figure  in  her  eyes  he 
must  ever  make  compared  with  them ! 

But  there  is  no  gravitation  like  that  of  the  heart.  He 
felt  that  he  must  see  her  again,  and  was  ready  to  sue  for 
even  the  privilege  of  being  tolerated  in  her  drawing-room 
on  terms  little  better  than  those  formerly  accorded  him. 

When  he  arrived  in  New  York  he  had  hesitated  as  to 
his  course.  His  first  impulse  had  been  to  adopt  a  life 
of  severe  and  inexpensive  simplicity.  But  he  soon  came 
to  look  upon  this  plan  as  an  affectation.  There  was  his 
city  home,  and  he  had  a  perfect  right  to  occupy  it,  and 
abundant  means  to  maintain  it.  After  seeing  Marian's 
resolute,  earnest  face  as  she  passed  in  the  street  uncon- 
scious of  his  scrutiny,  and  after  having  learned  more  about 
her  father  from  his  legal  adviser,  the  impression  grew  upon 
him  that  he  had  lost  his  chance,  and  he  was  inclined  to  take 
refuge  in  a  cold,  proud  reticence  and  a  line  of  conduct  that 

would  cause  no  surmises  and  questionings  on  the  part  of 

Roe— VI— 9 


194  AN    ORIGINAL   BELLE 

the  world.     He  would  take  his  natural  position,  and  live  in 
such  a  way  as  to  render  curiosity  impertinent. 

He  had  inherited  too  much  of  his  father's  temperament 
to  sit  down  in  morbid  brooding,  and  even  were  he  disposed 
toward  such  weakness  he  felt  that  his  words  to  Marian  re- 
quired that  he  should  do  all  that  he  was  now  free  to  perform 
in  the  advancement  of  the  cause  to  which  she  was  devoted. 
She  might  look  with  something  like  contempt  on  a  phase  of 
loyalty  which  gave  only  money  when  others  were  giving 
themselves,  but  it  was  the  best  he  could  do.  Whether  she 
would  ever  recognize  the  truth  or  not,  his  own  self-respect 
required  that  he  should  keep  his  word  and  try  to  look  at 
things  from  her  point  of  view,  and,  as  far  as  possible,  act 
accordingly.  For  a  time  he  was  fully  occupied  with  Mr. 
Bodoin  in  obtaining  a  fuller  knowledge  of  his  property  and 
the  nature  of  its  investment.  Having  learned  more  defi- 
nitely about  his  resources  he  next  followed  the  impulse 
to  aid  the  cause  for  which  he  could  not  fight. 

A  few  mornings  after  the  interview  between  Marian  and 
her  father  described  in  the  previous  chapter,  Mr.  Vosburgh, 
looking  over  his  paper  at  the  breakfast-table,  laughed  and 
said:  "What  do  you  think  of  this,  Marian?  Here  is  Mer- 
wyn's  name  down  for  a  large  donation  to  the  Sanitary  and 
Christian  Commissions. 

His  daughter  smiled  satirically  as  she  remarked,  "Such 
heroism  takes  away  my  breath." 

"You  are  losing  the  power,  Marian,"  said  her  mother, 
irritably,  "of  taking  moderate,  common-sense  views  of 
anything  relating  to  the  war.  If  the  cause  is  first  in  your 
thoughts  why  not  recognize  the  fact  that  Mr.  Merwyn  can 
do  tenfold  more  with  his  money  than  if  he  went  to  the  front 
and  'stopped  a  bullet,'  as  your  officer  friends  express  them- 
selves? You  are  unfair,  also.  Instead  of  giving  Mr.  Mer- 
wyn credit  for  a  generous  act  you  sneer  at  him." 

The  girl  bit  her  lip,  and  looked  perplexed  for  a  moment 
"Well,  then,"  she  said,  "I  will  give  him  credit.  He  has 
put  himself   to   the  inconvenience   of   writing   two  checks 


PROBATION    PROMISED  195 

for  amounts  that  he  will  miss  no  more  than  I  would  five 
cents." 

"Ask  your  father,1'  resumed  Mrs.  Vosburgh,  indignantly, 
"if  the  men  who  sustain  these  great  charities  and  the  gov- 
ernment are  not  just  as  useful  as  soldiers  in  the  field. 
What  would  become  of  the  soldiers  if  business  in  the  city 
should  cease  ?  Your  ideas,  carried  out  fully,  would  lead 
your  father  to  start  to  the  front  with  a  musket,  instead  of 
remaining  where  he  can  accomplish  the  most  good." 

"You  are  mistaken,  mamma.  My  only  fear  is  that  he 
will  incur  too  many  risks  as  it  is.  I  have  never  asked  any 
one  to  go  to  the  front,  and  I  certainly  would  not  ask  Mr. 
Merwyn.  Indeed,  when  I  think  of  the  cause,  I  would  rather 
he  should  do  as  you  suggest.  I  should  be  glad  to  have  him 
give  thousands  and  increase  the  volume  of  business  by 
millions;  but  if  he  gave  all  he  has,  he  could  not  stand 
in  my  estimation  with  men  who  offer  their  lives  and  risk 
mutilation  and  untold  suffering  from  wounds.  I  know  noth- 
ing of  Mr.  Merwyn's  present  motives,  and  they  may  be  any- 
thing but  patriotic.  He  may  think  it  to  his  advantage  to 
win  some  reputation  for  loyalty,  when  it  is  well  known  that 
his  mother  has  none  at  all.  Those  two  gifts,  paltry  for  one 
of  his  means,  count  very  little  in  these  days  of  immense 
self-sacrifice.  I  value,  in  times  of  danger,  especially  when 
great  principles  are  at  stake,  self-sacrifice  and  uncalculating 
heroism  above  all  things,  and  I  prefer  to  choose  my  friends 
from  among  those  who  voluntarily  exhibit  these  qualities. 
No  man  living  could  win  my  favor  who  took  risks  merely 
to  please  me.  Mr.  Merwyn  is  nothing  to  me,  and  if  I  should 
ever  meet  him  again  socially,  which  is  not  probable,  I 
should  be  the  last  one  to  suggest  that  he  should  go  to 
the  war;  but  if  he,  or  any  one,  wishes  my  regard,  there 
must  be  a  compliance  with  the  conditions  on  which  I  give 
it.     I  am  content  with  the  friends  I  have." 

Mr.  Vosburgh  looked  at  his  daughter  for  a  moment  as 
if  she  were  fulfilling  his  ideal,  and  soon  after  departed  for 
his  office.     A  few  days  after,  when  the  early  shadows  of 


196  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

the  late  autumn  were  gathering,  he  was  interrupted  in  his 
preparations  to  return  uptown  by  the  entrance  of  the  sub- 
ject of  the  recent  discussion. 

Merwyn  was  pale  and  evidently  embarrassed  as  he  asked, 
"Mr.  Vosburgh,  have  you  a  few  moments  of  leisure?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  gentleman,  briefly. 

He  led  the  way  to  a  private  office  and  gave  his  caller 
a  chair. 

The  young  man  was  at  a  loss  to  begin  a  conversation 
necessarily  of  so  delica  e  a  nature,  and  hesitated. 

Mr.  Vosburgh  offered  no  aid  or  encouragement,  for  his 
thought  was,  "This  young  fellow  must  show  his  hand  fully 
before  I  commit  myself  or  Marian  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree. ' ' 

"Miss  Vosburgh,  no  doubt,  has  told  you  of  the  character 
of  our  last  interview,"  Merwyn  began  at  last,  plunging  in 
medias  res. 

"My  daughter  is  in  the  habit  of  giving  me  her  confi- 
dence," was  the  quiet  reply. 

"Then,  sir,  you  know  how  unworthy  I  am  to  make  the 
request  to  which  I  am  nevertheless  impelled.  In  justice 
I  can  hope  for  nothing.  1  have  forfeited  the  privilege  of 
meeting  Miss  Vosburgh  again,  and  I  do  not  feel  that  it 
would  be  right  for  me  to  see  her  without  your  permission. 
The  motives  which  first  led  me  into  her  society  were  utterly 
unworthy  of  a  true  man,  and  had  she  been  the  ordinary 
society  girl  that  I  supposed  she  was,  the  results  might  have 
been  equally  deserving  of  condemnation.  I  will  not  plead 
in  extenuation  that  I  had  been  unfortunate  in  my  previous 
associations,  and  in  the  influences  that  had  developed  such 
character  as  I  had.     Can  you  listen  to  me  patiently  ?" 

The  gentleman  bowed. 

"I  eventually  learned  to  comprehend  Miss  Vosburgh's 
superiority  in  some  degree,  and  was  so  fascinated  by  her 
that  I  offered  marriage  in  perfect  good  faith;  but  the  pro- 
posal was  made  in  a  complacent  and  condescending  spirit 
that  was  so  perfectly  absurd  that  now  I  wonder  at  my  folly. 


PROBATION   PROMISED  197 

Her  reply  was  severe,  but  not  so  severe  as  I  deserved,  and 
she  led  me  to  see  myself  at  last  in  a  true  light.  It  is  little 
I  can  now  ask  or  hope.  My  questions  narrow  down  to  these: 
Is  Miss  Vosburgh  disposed  to  give  me  only  justice?  Have 
I  offended  her  so  deeply  that  she  cannot  meet  me  again? 
Had  my  final  words  no  weight  with  her?  She  has  inspired 
in  me  the  earnest  wish  to  achieve  such  character  as  I  am 
capable  of — such  as  circumstances  permit.  During  the  sum- 
mer I  saw  her  influence  over  others.  She  was  the  first  one 
in  the  world  who  awakened  in  ni}T  own  breast  the  desire  to 
be  different.  I  cannot  hope  that  she  will  soon,  if  ever,  look 
upon  me  as  a  friend;  but  if  she  can  even  tolerate  me  with 
some  degree  of  kindliness  and  good- will,  I  feel  that  I  should 
be  the  better  and  happier  for  meeting  her  occasionally.  If 
this  is  impossible,  please  say  to  her  that  the  pledge  implied 
among  the  last  words  uttered  on  that  evening,  which  I  shall 
never  forget,  shall  be  kept.  I  shall  try  to  look  at  right  and 
duty  as  she  would." 

As  he  concluded,  Mr.  Vosburgh's  face  softened  some- 
what. For  awhile  the  young  man's  sentences  had  been  a 
little  formal  and  studied,  evidently  the  result  of  much  con- 
sideration; they  had  nevertheless  the  impress  of  truth.  The 
gentleman's  thought  was:  "If  Mr.  Merwyn  makes  good  his 
words  by  deeds  this  affair  has  not  yet  ended.  My  little  girl 
has  been  much  too  angry  and  severe  not  to  be  in  danger 
of  a  reaction." 

After  a  moment  of  silence  he  said:  "Mr.  Merwyn,  I  can 
only  speak  for  myself  in  this  matter.  Of  course,  I  naturally 
felt  all  a  father's  resentment  at  your  earlier  attentions  to 
my  daughter.  Since  you  have  condemned  them  unspar- 
ingly I  need  not  refer  to  them  again.  I  respect  your  dis- 
position to  atone  for  the  past  and  to  enter  on  a  life  of  manly 
duty.  You  have  my  hearty  sympathy,  whatever  may  be 
the  result.  I  also  thank  you  for  your  frank  words  to  me. 
Nevertheless,  Miss  Vosburgh  must  answer  the  questions  you 
have  asked.  She  is  supreme  in  her  drawing-room,  and  alone 
can  decide  whom  she  will  receive  there.     I  know  she  will 


198  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

not  welcome  any  one  whom  she  believes  to  be  unworthy  to 
enter.     I  will  tell  her  all  that  you  have  said." 

"I  do  not  hope  to  be  welcomed,  sir.  I  only  ask  to  be 
received  with  some  degree  of  charity.  May  I  call  on  you 
to-morrow  and  learn  Miss  Vosburgh's  decision?" 

"Certainly,  at  any  hour  convenient  to  you." 

Merwyn  bowed  and  retired.  When  alone  he  said,  with 
a  deep  sigh  of  relief:  "Well,  I  have  done  all  in  my  power 
at  present.  If  she  has  a  woman's  heart  she  won't  be  im- 
placable." 

"What  kept  you  so  late?"  Mrs.  Vosburgh  asked,  as  her 
husband  came  down  to  dinner. 

"A  gentleman  called  and  detained  me." 

"Give  him  my  compliments  when  you  see  him  again,  ' 
said  Marian,  "and  tell  him  that  I  don't  thank  him  for 
his  unreasonable  hours.  You  need  more  recreation,  papa. 
Come,  take  us  out  to  hear  some  music  to-night." 

A  few  hours  later  they  were  at  the  Academy,  occupying 
balcony  seats.  Marian  was  glancing  over  the  house,  be- 
tween the  acts,  with  her  glass,  when  she  suddenly  arrested 
its  motion,  and  fixed  it  on  a  lonely  occupant  of  an  expen- 
sive box.  After  a  moment  she  handed  the  lorgnette  to  her 
father,  and  directed  him  whither  to  look.  He  smiled  and 
said,  "He  appears  rather  pensive  and  preoccupied,  doesn't 
he?" 

"I  don't  fancy  pensive,  preoccupied  men  in  these  times. 
Why  didn't  he  fill  his  box,  instead  of  selfishly  keeping  it 
all  to  himself?" 

"Perhaps  he  could  not  secure  the  company  he  wished." 

"Who  is  it?"  Mrs.  Vosburgh  asked. 

She  was  told,  and  gave  Merwyn  a  longer  scrutiny  than 
the  others. 

"Shall  I  go  and  give  him  your  compliments  and  the 
message  you  spoke  of  at  dinner  ?' :  resumed  Mr.  Vosburgh, 
in  a  low  tone. 

"Was  it  Mr,  Merwyn  that  called  so  late?"  she  asked, 
with  a  sudden  intelligence  in  her  eyes. 


PROBATION   PROMISED  199 

Her  father  nodded,  while  the  suggestion  of  a  smile  hov- 
ered about  his  mouth. 

"Just  think  of  it,  Marian!"  said  Mrs.  Vosburgh.  "We 
all  might  now  be  in  that  box  if  you  had  been  like  other 
girls. ' ' 

k'I  am  well  content  where  I  am." 

During  the  remainder  of  the  evening  Mr.  Vosburgh  ob- 
served some  evidences  of  suppressed  excitement  in  Marian, 
and  saw  that  she  managed  to  get  a  glimpse  of  that  box  more 
than  once.  Long  before  the  opera  ended  it  was  empty.  He 
pointed  out  the  fact,  and  said,  humorously,  "Mr.  Merwyn 
evidently  has  something  on  his  mind." 

"I  should  hope  so;  and  so  have  you,  papa.  Has  he  for- 
mally demanded  my  hand  with  the  condition  that  you  stop 
the  war,  and  inform  the  politicians  that  this  is  their  quarrel, 
and  that  they  must  fight  it  out  with  toothpicks?" 

"Xo;  his  request  was  more  modest  than  that." 

"You  think  I  am  dying  with  curiosity,  but  I  can  wait 
until  we  get  home." 

When  they  returned,  Mr.  Vosburgh  went  to  his  library, 
for  he  was  somewhat  owlish  in  his  habits. 

Marian  soon  joined  him,  and  said:  "You  must  retire  as 
soon  as  you  have  finished  that  cigar.  Even  the  momentous 
Mr.  Merwyn  shall  not  keep  us  up  a  second  longer.  Indeed, 
I  am  so  sleepy  already  that  I  may  ask  you  to  begin  your 
tale  to-night,  and  end  with  'to  be  continued.'  " 

He  looked  at  her  so  keenly  that  her  color  rose  a  little, 
then  said,  kkI  think,  my  dear,  you  will  listen  till  I  say  'con- 
cluded';" and  he  repeated  the  substance  of  Merwyn's  words. 

She  heard  him  with  a  perplexed  little  frown.  "What  do 
you  think  I  ought  to  do,  papa?" 

"Do  you  remember  the  conversation  we  had  here  last 
June?" 

"Yes;  when  shall  I  forget  it?" 

"Well,  since  you  wish  my  opinion  I  will  give  it  frankly. 
It  then  became  your  ambition  to  make  the  most  and  best  of 
men  over  whom  you  had  influence,  if  they  were  worth  the 


200  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

effort.  Merwyn  has  been  faulty  and  unmanly,  as  he  fully 
admits  himself,  but  he  has  proved  apparently  that  he  is 
not  commonplace.  You  must  take  your  choice,  either  to 
resent  the  past,  or  to  help  him  carry  out  his  better  pur- 
poses. He  does  not  ask  much,  although  no  doubt  he  hopes 
for  far  more.  In  granting  his  request  you  do  not  commit 
yourself  to  his  hopes  in  the  least." 

"Well,  papa,  he  said  that  I  couldn't  possess  a  woman's 
heart  and  cast  him  off  in  utter  contempt,  so  I  think  I  shall 
have  to  put  him  on  probation.  But  he  must  be  careful  not 
to  presume  again.  I  can  be  friendly  to  many,  but  a  friend 
to  very  few.  Before  he  suggests  that  relation  he  must  prove 
himself  the  peer  of  other  friends/' 


YOU    THINK    ME    A    COWARD"  201 


M 


CHAPTER   XX 


ERW  YN  had  not  been  long  in  the  city  before  he  was 
waited  upon  and  asked  to  do  his  share  toward  sus- 
taining the  opera,  and  he  had  carelessly  taken  a 
box  which  had  seldom  been  occupied.  On  the  evening 
after  his  interview  with  Mr.  Vosburgh,  his  feeling  of  sus- 
pense was  so  great  that  he  thought  he  could  beguile  a  few 
hours  with,  music.  He  found,  however,  that  the  light 
throng,  and  even  the  harmonious  sounds,  irritated,  rather 
than  diverted,  his  perturbed  mind,  and  he  returned* to  his 
lonely  home,  and  restlessly  paced  apartments  rendered  all 
the  more  dreary  by  their  magnificence. 

He  proved  his  solicitude  in  a  way  that  led  Mr.  Vosburgh 
to  smile  slightly,  for  when  that  gentleman  entered  his  office. 
Merwyn  was  awaiting  him. 

liI  have  only  to  tell  you,"  he  said,  in  response  to  ttk 
young  man's  questioning  eyes,  "that  Miss  Vosburgh  accedes 
to  your  request  as  you  presented  it  to  me;"  and  in  parting 
he  gave  his  hand  with  some  semblance  of  friendliness. 

Merwyn  went  away  elated,  feeling  that  he  had  gained  all 
for  which  he  had  a  right  to  hope.  Eager  as  he  was  for  the 
coming  interview  with  Marian,  he  dreaded  it  and  feared 
that  he  might  be  painfully  embarrassed.  In  this  eagerness 
he  started  early  for  an  evening  call;  but  when  he  reached 
his  destination,  he  hesitated,  passing  and  repassing  the 
dwelling  before  he  could  gather  courage  to  enter.  The 
young  girl  would  have  smiled,  could  she  have  seen 
her    former   suitor,    once   so   complacent  and  condescend- 


202  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ing.     She  certainly  could  not  complain  of  lack  of  humility 

now. 

At  last  he  perceived  that  two  other  callers  had  passed 
in,  and  he  followed  them,  feeling  that  their  presence  would 
enable  both  him  and  the  object  of  his  thoughts  to  take 
refuge  in  conventionalities. 

He  was  right  in  this  view,  for  with  a  scarcely  perceptible 
increase  of  color,  and  a  polite  bow,  Marian  received  him  as 
she  would  any  other  mere  calling  acquaintance,  introduced 
him  to  the  two  gentlemen  present,  and  conversation  at  once 
became  general.     Merwyn  did  not  remain  long  under  con- 
straint.     Even    Marian   had    to   admit   to    herself    that   he 
acquitted  himself  well  and  promised  better  for  the  future. 
When  topics  relating  to  the  war  were  broached,  he  not  only 
talked  as  loyally  as  the  others,  but  also  proved  himself  well 
informed.     Mrs.  Yosburgh  soon  appeared  and  greeted  him 
cordially,  for  the  lady  was  ready  enough  to  entertain  the 
hopes  which  his  presence  again  inspired.     He  felt  that  his 
first  call,  to  be  in  good  taste,  should  be  rather  brief,  and  he 
took  his  departure  before  the  others,  Marian  bowing  with 
the  same  distant  politeness  that  had  characterized  her  greet- 
ing.    She  made  it  evident  that  she  had  granted  just  what 
he  had  asked  and  nothing  more.      Whether  he  could  ever 
inspire  anything   like  friendliness   the   future   only  would 
reveal.     He  had  serious  doubts,  knowing  that  he  suffered 
in  contrast  with  even  the  guests  of  the  present  evening. 
One  was  an  officer  home  on  sick-leave;  the  other  exempted 
from  military  duty  by  reason  of  lameness,  which  did  not 
extend  to  his  wit  and  conversational  powers.     Merwyn  also 
knew    that    he   would   ever   be  compared  with   those  near 
friends  now  in  Virginia. 

What  did  he  hope  ?  What  could  he  hope  ?  He  scarcely 
knew,  and  would  not  even  entertain  the  questions.  He  was 
only  too  glad  that  the  door  was  not  closed  to  him,  and,  with 
the  innate  hopefulness  of  youth,  he  would  leave  the  future 
to  reveal  its  possibilities.  He  was  so  thoroughly  his  father's 
son  that  he  would  not  be  disheartened,  an4  so  thoroughly 


"YOU    THiyK    ME    A    COWARD"  203 

himself  that  the  course  he  preferred  would  be  the  one  fol- 
lowed, so  far  as  was  now  possible. 

"Well?"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh,  when  Marian  came  to  the 
library  to  kiss  him  good-night. 

"What  a  big,  long  question  that  little  word  contains!" 
she  cried,  laughing,  and  there  was  a  little  exhilaration  in 
her  manner  which  did  not  escape  him. 

"You  may  tell  me  much,  little,  or  nothing." 

"I  will  tell  you  nothing,  then,  for  there  is  nothing  to 
tell.  I  received  and  parted  with  Mr.  Merwyn  on  his  terms, 
and  those  you  know  all  about.  Mamma  was  quite  gracious, 
and  my  guests  were  polite  to  him." 

"Are  you  willing  to  tell  me  what  impression  he  made  in 
respect  to  his  loyalty  ?" 

"Shrewd  papa!  You  think  this  the  key  to  the  problem. 
Perhaps  it  is,  if  there  is  any  problem.  Well,  so  far  as  words 
went  he  proved  his  loyalty  in  an  incidental  way,  and  is  evi- 
dently informing  himself  concerning  events.  If  he  has  no 
better  proof  to  offer  than  words,  his  probation  will  end  un- 
favorably, even  though  he  may  not  be  immediately  aware 
of  the  fact.  Of  course,  now  that  I  have  granted  his  re- 
quest, I  must  be  polite  to  him  so  long  as  he  chooses  to 
come." 

"Was  he  as  complacent  and  superior  as  ever?" 

"Whither  is  your  subtlety  tending?  Are  you,  as  well 
as  mamma,  an  ally  of  Mr.  Merwyn  ?  You  know  he  was 
not.  Indeed,  I  must  admit  that,  in  manner,  he  carried 
out  the  spirit  of  his  request." 

"Then,  to  use  your  own  words,  he  was  'befittingly  hum- 
ble' ?  No,  I  am  not  his  ally.  I  am  disposed  to  observe 
the  results  of  your  experiment.  " 

"There  shall  be  no  experimenting,  papa.  Circumstances 
have  enabled  him  to  understand  me  as  well  as  he  ever  can, 
and  he  must  act  in  view  of  what  he  knows  me  to  be. 
I  shall  not  seek  to  influence  him,  except  by  being  myself, 
nor  shall  I  lower  my  standard  in  his  favor." 

"Very  well,  I  shall  note  his  course  with  some  interest. 


204  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

It  is  evident,  however,  that  the  uncertainties  of  his  future 
action  will  not  keep  either  of  us  awake." 

When  she  left  him,  he  fell  into  a  long  revery,  and  his 
concluding  thoughts  were:  "I  doubt  whether  Marian  under- 
stands herself  in  respect  to  this  young  fellow.  She  is  too 
resentful.  She  does  not  feel  the  indifference  which  she 
seeks  to  maintain.  The  subtle,  and,  as  yet,  unrecognized 
instinct  of  her  womanhood  leads  her  to  stand  aloof.  This 
would  be  the  natural  course  of  a  girl  like  Marian  toward  a 
man  who,  for  any  cause,  had  gained  an  unusual  hold  upon 
her  thoughts.  I  must  inform  myself  thoroughly  in  regard 
to  this  Mr.  Merwyn.  Thus  far  her  friends  have  given  me 
little  solicitude;  but  here  is  one,  toward  whom  she  is  in- 
clined to  be  hostile,  that  it  may  be  well  to  know  all  about. 
Even  before  she  is  aware  of  it  herself,  she  is  on  the  defen- 
sive against  him,  and  this,  to  a  student  of  human  nature, 
is  significant.  She  virtually  said  to-night  that  he  must  win 
his  way  and  make  his  own  unaided  advances  toward  man- 
hood. Ah,  my  little  girl!  if  it  was  not  in  him  ever  to  have 
greater  power  over  you  than  Mr.  Strahan,  you  would  take 
a  kindlier  interest  in  his  efforts." 

If  Marian  idolized  her  father  as  she  had  said,  it  can  read- 
ily be  guessed  how  much  she  was  to  him,  and  that  he  was 
not  forgetful  of  his  purpose  to  learn  more  about  one  who 
manifested  so  deep  an  interest  in  his  daughter,  and  who  pos- 
sibly had  the  power  to  create  a  responsive  interest.  It  so 
happened  that  he  was  acquainted  with  Mr.  Bodoin,  and  had 
employed  the  shrewd  lawyer  in  some  government  affairs. 
Another  case  had  arisen  in  which  legal  counsel  was  required, 
and  on  the  following  day  advice  was  sought. 

When  this  part  of  the  interview  was  over,  Mr.  Vosburgh 
remarked,  casually,  "By  the  way,  I  believe  you  are  ac- 
quainted with  Mr.  Willard  Merwyn  and  his  affairs." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  lawyer,  at  once  on  the  alert. 

"Do  your  relations  to  Mr.  Merwyn  permit  you  to  give 
me  some  information  concerning  him?" 

The  attorney  thought  rapidly.     His  client  had  recently 


"YOU    THINK    ME    A    COWARD"  205 

been  inquiring  about  Mr.  Vosburgh,  and,  therefore,  the  in- 
terest was  mutual.  On  general  principles  it  was  important 
that  the  latter  should  be  friendly,  for  he  was  a  secret  and 
trusted  agent  of  the  government,  and  Mrs.  Merwyn's  course 
might  render  a  friend  at  court  essential  Although  the  son 
had  not  mentioned  Marian's  name,  Mr.  Bodom  shrewdly 
guessed  that  she  was  exerting  the  influence  that  had  so 
greatly  changed  the  young  man's  views  and  plans.  The 
calculating  lawyer  had  never  imagined  that  he  would  play 
the  role  of  match- maker,  but  he  was  at  once  convinced  that, 
in  the  stormy  and  uncertain  times,  Merwyn  could  scarcely 
make  a  better  alliance  than  the  one  he  meditated.  There- 
fore with  much  apparent  frankness  the  astute  lawyer  told 
Mr.  Vosburgh  all  that  was  favorable  to  the  young  man. 

"I  think  he  will  prove  an  unusual  character,"  concluded 
the  lawyer,  "for  he  is  manifesting  some  of  his  father's  most 
characteristic  traits,"  and  these  were  mentioned.  "When, 
after  attaining  his  majority,  the  son  returned  from  England, 
he  was  in  many  respects  little  better  than  a  shrewd,  self- 
indulgent  boy,  indifferent  to  everything  but  his  own  pleas- 
ure, but,  for  some  reason,  he  has  greatly  changed.  Re- 
sponsibility has  apparently  sobered  him  and  made  him 
thoughtful.  I  have  also  told  him  much  about  my  old 
friend  and  client,  his  father,  and  the  young  fellow  is  bent 
on  imitating  him.  While  he  is  very  considerate  of  his 
mother  and  sisters,  he  has  identified  himself  with  his  fa- 
ther's views,  and  has  become  a  Northern  man  to  the  back- 
bone. Even  to  a  degree  contrary  to  my  advice,  he  insists 
on  investing  his  means  in  government  bonds." 

This  information  was  eminently  satisfactory,  and  even 
sagacious  Mr.  Vosburgh  did  not  suspect  the  motives  of  the 
lawyer,  whom  he  knew  to  be  eager  to  retain  his  good-will, 
since  it  was  in  his  power  to  give  much  business  to  those 
he  trusted. 

"I  may  become  Merwyn's  ally  after  all,  if  he  makes  good 
his  own  and  Mr.  Bodoin's  words,"  was  his  smiling  thought, 
as  he  returned  to  his  office. 


206  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

He  was  too  wise,  however,  to  use  open  influence  with 
his  daughter,  or  to  refer  to  the  secret  interview.  Matters 
should  take  their  own  course  for  the  present,  while  he  re- 
mained a  vigilant  observer,  for  Marian's  interest  and  happi- 
ness were  dearer  to  him  than  his  own  life. 

Merwyn  sought  to  use  his  privilege  judiciously,  and 
concentrated  all  his  faculties  on  the  question  of  his  stand- 
ing in  Marian's  estimation.  During  the  first  few  weeks,  it 
was  evident  that  his  progress  in  her  favor  was  slow,  if  any 
were  made  at  all.  She  was  polite,  she  conversed  with  him 
naturally  and  vivaciously  on  topics  of  general  interest,  but 
there  appeared  to  be  viewless  and  impassable  barriers  be- 
tween them.  Not  by  word  or  sign  did  she  seek  to  influence 
his  action. 

She  was  extremely  reticent  about  herself,  and  took  pains 
to  seem  indifferent  in  regard  to  his  life  and  plans,  but  she 
was  beginning  to  chafe  under  what  she  characterized  as  his 
"inaction."  Giving  to  hospitals  and  military  charities  and 
buying  United  States  bonds  counted  for  little  in  her  eyes. 

"He  parades  his  loyalty,  and  would  have  me  think  that 
he  looks  upon  the  right  to  call  on  me  as  a  great  privilege, 
but  he  does  not  care  enough  about  either  me  or  the  country 
to  incur  any  risk  or  hardship." 

Thoughts  like  these  were  beginning  not  only  to  rekindle 
her  old  resentment,  but  also  to  cause  a  vague  sense  of  dis- 
appointment. Merwyn  had  at  least  accomplished  one  thing 
— he  confirmed  her  father's  opinion  that  he  was  not  com- 
monplace. Travel,  residence  abroad,  association  with  well- 
bred  people,  and  a  taste  for  reading,  had  given  him  a  finish 
which  a  girl  of  Marian's  culture  could  not  fail  to  appreci- 
ate. Because  he  satisfied  her  taste  and  eye,  she  was  only 
the  more  irritated  by  his  failure  in  what  she  deemed  the 
essential  elements  of  manhood.  In  spite  of  the  passionate 
words  he  had  once  spoken,  she  was  beginning  to  believe 
that  a  cold,  calculating  persistence  was  the  corner-stone  of 
his  character,  that  even  if  he  were  brave  enough  to  fight, 
he  had  deliberately  decided  to  take  no  risks  and  enjoy  his 


"YOU    THIXK    ME    A    COWARD''  207 

fortune.  If  this  were  true,  she  assured  herself,  he  might 
shoulder  the  national  debt  if  he  chose,  but  he  could  never 
become  her  friend. 

Then  came  the  terrible  and  useless  slaughter  of  Freder- 
icksburg. With  the  fatuity  that  characterized  the  earlier 
years  of  the  war,  the  heroic  army  of  the  Potomac,  which 
might  have  annihilated  Lee  on  previous  occasions,  was 
hurled  against  heights  and  fortifications  that,  from  the 
beginning,  rendered  the  attack  hopeless. 

Marian's  friends  were  exposed  to  fearful  perils,  but 
passed  through  the  conflict  unscathed.  Her  heart  went 
out  to  them  in  a  deeper  and  stronger  sympathy  than 
ever,   and  Merwyn   in   contrast  lost  correspondingly. 

During  the  remaining  weeks  of  December,  she  saw  that 
her  father  was  almost  haggard  from  care  and  anxiety,  and 
he  was  compelled  to  make  trips  to  Washington  and  even 
to  the  front. 

''The  end  has  not  come  yet,"  he  had  said  to  her,  after 
one  of  these  flying  visits.  "Burnside  has  made  an  awful 
blunder,  but  he  is  eager  to  retrieve  himself,  and  now  has 
plans  on  foot  that  promise  better.  The  disaffection  among 
his  commanding  officers  and  troops  is  what  I  am  most  afraid 
of — more,  indeed,  than  of  the  rebel  army.  Unlike  his  pred- 
ecessor, he  is  determined  to  move,  to  act,  and  I  think  we 
may  soon  hear  of  another  great  battle." 

Letters  from  her  friends  confirmed  this  view,  especially 
a  brief  note  from  Lane,  in  which  the  writer,  fearing  that  it 
might  be  his  last,  had  not  wholly  veiled  his  deep  affection. 
;,I  am  on  the  eve  of  participating  in  an  immense  cavalry 
movement,"  it  began,  "and  it  may  be  some  time  before  I 
can  write  to  you  again,  if  ever." 

The  anxiety  caused  by  this  missive  was  somewhat  re- 
lieved by  a  humorous  account  of  the  recall  of  the  cavalry 
force  She  then  learned,  through  her  father,  that  the  entire 
army  was  again  on  the  move,  and  that  another  terrific  battle 
would  be  fought  in  a  day  or  two. 

"Burnside    should   cross    the    Rappahannock    to-day  t>r 


208  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

to-morrow,  at  the  latest,"  Mr.  Vosburgh  had  remarked  at 
breakfast,  to  which  he  had  come  from  the  Washington 
owl- train. 

It  was  the  20th  of  December,  and  when  the  shadows  of 
the  early  twilight  were  gathering,  Burnside  had,  in  fact, 
massed  his  army  at  the  fords  of  the  river,  and  his  troops, 
"little  Strahan"  among  them,  were  awaiting  orders  to  enter 
the  icy  tide  in  the  stealthy  effort  to  gain  Lee's  left  flank. 
There  are  many  veterans  now  living  who  remember  the 
terrific  "storm  of  wind,  rain,  sleet,  and  snow"  that  assailed 
the  unsheltered  army.  It  checked  further  advance  more 
effectually  than  if  all  the  rebel  forces  had  been  drawn  up 
on  the  further  shore.  After  a  frightful  night,  the  Union 
army  was  discovered  in  the  dawn  by  Lee. 

Even  then  Burnside  would  have  crossed,  and,  in  spite 
of  his  opponent's  preparations  and  every  other  obstacle, 
would  have  fought  a  battle,  had  he  not  been  paralyzed  by 
a  foe  with  which  no  general  could  cope— Virginia  mud. 
The  army  mired  helplessly,  supply  trains  could  not  reach 
it.  With  difficulty  the  troops  were  led  back  to  their  old 
quarters,  and  so  ended  the  disastrous  campaigns  of  the  year, 
so  far  as  the  army  of  the  Potomac  was  concerned. 

The  storm  that  drenched  and  benumbed  the  soldiers  on 
the  Rappahannock  was  equally  furious  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  Mr.  Vosburgh  sat  down  to  dinner  frowning  and 
depressed.  "It  seems  as  if  fate  is  against  us,"  he  said. 
"This  storm  is  general,  I  fear,  and  may  prove  more  of  a 
defence  to  Lee  than  his  fortifications  at  Fredericksburg.  It's 
bad  enough  to  have  to  cope  with  treachery  and  disaffection." 
"Treachery,  papa?" 

"Yes,  treachery,"  replied  her  father,  sternly.  "Scoun- 
drels in  our  own  army  informed  Washington  disumonists 
of  the  cavalry  movement  of  which  Captain  Lane  wrote  you, 
and  these  unmolested  enemies  at  the  capital  are  in  constant 
communication  with  Lee.  When  will  our  authorities  and 
the  North  awake  to  the  truth  that  this  is  a  life-and-death 
struggle,  and  that  there  must  be  no  more  nonsense  ?" 


"YOU    THINK    ME   A    COWARD"  209 

"Would  to  Heaven  I  were  a  man!"  said  the  young  girl. 
"At  this  very  moment,  no  doubt,  Mr.  Merwyn  is  enjoying 
his  sumptuous  dinner,  while  my  friends  may  be  fording 
a  dark,  cold  river  to  meet  their  death.  Oh!  I  can't  eat 
anything  to-night." 

"Nonsense!"  cried  her  mother,  irritably. 

"Come,  little  girl,  you  are  taking  things  too  much  to 
heart.  I  am  very  glad  you  are  not  a  man.  In  justice,  1 
must  also  add  that  Mr.  Merwyn  is  doing  more  for  the  cause 
than  any  of  your  friends.  It  so  happens  that  I  have  learned 
that  he  is  doing  a  great  deal  of  which  little  is  known." 

"Pardon  me,"  cried  the  girl,  almost  passionately.  "Any 
man  who  voluntarily  faces  this  storm,  and  crosses  that 
river  to-night  or  to-morrow,  does  infinitely  more  in  my 
estimation." 

Her  father  smiled,  but  evidently  his  appetite  was  flag- 
ging also,  and  he  soon  went  out  to  send  and  receive  some 
cipher  despatches. 

Merwyn  was  growing  hungry  for  some  evidence  of  greater 
friendliness  than  he  had  yet  received.  Hitherto,  he  had 
never  seen  Marian  alone  when  calling,  and  the  thought 
had  occurred  that  if  he  braved  the  storm  in  paying  her  a 
visit,  the  effort  might  be  appreciated.  One  part  of  his  hope 
was  fulfilled,  for  he  found  her  drawing-room  empty.  While 
he  waited,  that  other  stormy  and  memorable  evening  when 
he  had  sought  to  find  her  alone  flashed  on  his  memory,  and 
he  feared  that  he  had  made  a  false  step  in  coming. 

This  impression  was  confirmed  by  her  pale  face  and  dis- 
tant greeting.  In  vain  he  put  forth  his  best  efforts  to  in- 
terest her.  She  remained  coldly  polite,  took  but  a  languid 
part  in  the  conversation,  and  at  times  even  permitted  him 
to  see  that  her  thoughts  were  preoccupied.  He  had  been 
humble  and  patient  a  long  time,  and  now,  in  spite  of  him- 
self, his  anger  began  to  rise. 

Feeling  that  he  had  better  take  his  leave  while  still  under 
self-control,  and  proposing  also  to  hint  that  she  had  failed 
somewhat  in  courtesy,   he  arose  abruptly  and  said:  "You 


210  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

are  not  well  this  evening,  Miss  Vosburgh  ?  I  should  have 
perceived  the  fact  earlier.     I  wish  you  good-night." 

She  felt  the  slight  sting  of  his  words,  and  was  in  no 
mood  to  endure  it.  Moreover,  if  she  had  failed  in  such 
courtesy  as  he  had  a  right  to  expect,  he  should  know  the 
reason,  and  she  felt  at  the  moment  willing  that  he  should 
receive  the  implied  reproach. 

Therefore  she  said:  "Pardon  me,  I  am  quite  well.  It  is 
natural  that  I  should  be  a  little  distraite,  for  I  have  learned 
that  my  friends  are  exposed  to  this  storm,  and  will  prob- 
ably engage  in  another  terrible  battle  to-morrow,  or  soon." 

Again  the  old  desperate  expression,  that  she  remembered 
so  well,  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  exclaimed,  bitterly:  "You 
think  me  a  coward  because  I  remain  in  the  city  ?  What  is 
this  storm,  or  that  battle,  compared  with  what  I  am  facing  1 
Good-night;"  and,  giving  her  no  chance  for  further  words, 
&e  hastened  away. 


FEARS   AND    PERPLEXITIES  211 


M 


CHAPTER   XXI 

FEARS    AND    PERPLEXITIES 

ERWYN  found  the  storm  so  congenial  to  his  mood 
that  he  breasted  it  for  hours  before  returning  to  his 
home.     There,  in  weariness  and  reaction,   he  sank 
into  deep  dejection. 

"What  is  the  use  of  anger?"  he  asked  himself,  as  he 
renewed  the  dying  fire  in  his  room.  ilIn  view  of  all  the 
past,  she  has  more  cause  for  resentment  than  I,  while  it  is 
a  matter  of  indifference  to  her  whether  I  am  angry  or  not. 
I  might  as  well  be  incensed  at  ice  because  it  is  cold,  and 
she  is  ice  to  me.  She  has  her  standard  and  a  circle  of 
friends  who  come  up  to  it.  This  I  never  have  done  and 
never  can  do.  Therefore  she  only  tolerates  me  and  is  more 
than  willing  that  I  should  disappear  below  her  horizon 
finally.  I  was  a  fool  to  speak  the  words  I  did  to-night. 
What  can  they  mean  to  her  when  nothing  is  left  for  me, 
apparently,  but  a  safe,  luxurious  life?  Such  outbreaks  can 
only  seem  hysterical  or  mere  affectations,  and  there  shall 
be  no  more  of  them,  let  the  provocation  be  what  it  may. 
Indeed,  why  should  I  inflict  myself  on  her  any  more?  I 
cannot  say  that  she  has  not  a  woman's  heart,  but  I  wronged 
and  chilled  it  from  the  first,  and  cannot  now  retrieve  myself. 
If  I  should  go  to  her  to-morrow,  even  in  a  private's  uni- 
form, she  would  give  me  her  hand  cordially,  but  she  com- 
pares me  with  hundreds  of  thousands  who  seem  braver  men 
than  I.  It  is  useless  for  me  to  suggest  that  I  am  doing  more 
than  those  who  go  to  fight.  Her  thought  would  be:  'I  have 
all  the  friends  I  need  among  more  knightly  spirits  who  are 


212  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

not  afraid  to  look  brave  enemies  in  the  face,  and  without 
whom  the  North  would  be  disgraced.  Let  grajbeards  fur- 
nish the  sinews  of  war;  let  young  men  give  their  blood  if 
need  be.  It  is  indeed  strange  that  a  man's  arm  should  be 
paralyzed,  and  his  best  hope  in  life  blighted,  by  a  mother!'  " 

If  he  could  have  known  Marian's  thoughts  and  heard  the 
conversation  that  ensued  with  her  father,  he  would  not  have 
been  so  despondent. 

When  he  left  her  so  abruptly  she  again  experienced  the 
compunctions  she  had  felt  before.  Whether  he  deserved  it 
or  not  she  could  not  shut  her  eyes  to  the  severity  of  the 
wound  inflicted,  or  to  his  suffering.  In  vain  she  tried  to 
assure  herself  that  he  did  deserve  it.  Granting  this,  the 
thoughts  asserted  themselves:  "Why  am  I  called  upon  to 
resent  his  course?  Having  granted  his  request  to  visit  me, 
I  might,  at  least,  be  polite  and  affable  on  his  own  terms. 
Because  he  wishes  more,  and  perhaps  hopes  for  more,  this 
does  not,  as  papa  says,  commit  me  in  the  least.  He  may 
have  some  scruple  in  fighting  openly  against  the  land  of 
his  mother's  ancestry.  If  that  scruple  has  more  weight  with 
him  than  my  friendly  regard,  that  is  his  affair.  His  words 
to-night  indicated  that  he  must  be  under  some  strong 
restraint.  Oh,  dear!  I  wish  I  had  never  known  him;  he 
perplexes  and  worries  me.  The  course  of  my  other  friends 
is  simple  and  straightforward  as  the  light.  Why  do  I  say 
other  friends?  He's  not  a  friend  at  all,  yet  my  thoughts 
return  to  him   in  a  way  that  is  annoying." 

When  her  father  came  home  she  told  him  what  had  oc- 
curred, and  unconsciously  permitted  him  to  see  that  her 
mind  was  disturbed.  He  did  not  smile  quizzically,  as  some 
sagacious  people  would  have  done,  thus  touching  the  young 
girl's  pride  and  arraying  it  against  her  own  best  interests, 
it  might  be.  With  the  thoughts  of  her  happiness  ever 
uppermost,  he  would  discover  the  secret  causes  of  her  un- 
wonted perturbation.  Not  only  Merwyn — about  whom  he 
had  satisfied  himself — should  have  his  chance,  but  also  the 
girl  herself.     Mrs.  Vosburgh's  conventional  match-making 


FEARS    AND    PERPLEXITIES  218 

would  leave  no  chance  for  eithei.  The  profounder  man  be- 
lieved that  nature,  unless  interfered  with  by  heavy,  unskil- 
ful hands,  would  settle  the  question  rightly. 

He  therefore  listened  without  comment,  and  at  first  only 
remarked,  "Evidently,  Marian,  you  are  not  trying  to  make 
the  most  and  best  of  this  young  fellow.1' 

"But,  papa,  am  I  bound  to  do  this  for  people  who  are 
disagreeable  to  me  and  who  don't  meet  my  views  at  all  ?" 

"Certainly  not.  Indeed,  you  may  have  frozen  Merwyn 
out  of  the  list  of  your  acquaintances  already." 

"Well,"  replied  the  girl,  almost  petulantly,  "that,  per- 
haps, will  be  the  best  ending  of  the  whole  affair. " 

"That's  for  you  to  decide,  my  dear." 

"But,  papa,  I  feel  that  you  don't  approve  of  my  course." 

"Neither  do  I  disapprove  of  it.  I  only  say,  according  to 
our  bond  to  be  frank,  that  you  are  unfair  to  Merwyn.  Of 
course,  if  he  is  essentially  disagreeable  to  you,  there  is  no 
occasion  for  you  to  make  a  martyr  of  yourself." 

"That's  what  irritates  me  so,"  said  the  girl,  impetuously. 
"He  might  have  made  himself  very  agreeable.  But  he  un- 
dervalued and  misunderstood  me  so  greatly  from  the  first 
that  it  was  hard  to  forgive  him. ' ' 

"If  he  hadn't  shown  deep  contrition  and  regret  for  that 
course  I  shouldn't  wish  you  to  forgive  him,  even  though 
his  antecedents  had  made  anything  better  scarcely  possible." 

"Come  down  to  the  present  hour,  then.  What  he  asked 
of  you  is  one  thing.  I  see  what  he  wishes.  He  desires,  at 
least,  the  friendship  that  I  give  to  those  who  fulfil  my  ideal 
of  manhood  in  these  times.  He  has  no  right  to  seek  this 
without  meeting  the  conditions  which  remove  all  hesitation 
in  regard  to  others.  It  angers  me  that  he  does  so.  I  feel 
as  if  he  were  seeking  to  buy  my  good-will  by  donations  to 
this,  that,  and  the  other  thing.  He  still  misunderstands 
me.  Why  can't  he  realize  that,  to  one  of  my  nature,  ford- 
ing the  icy  Rappahannock  to-night  would  count  for  more 
than  his  writing  checks  for  millions?" 

"Probably  he  does  understand   it,  and  that  is  what  he 


214  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

meant  by  his  words  to-night,  when  he  said,  'What  is  this 
storm,  or  what  a  battle  ?'  " 

She  was  overwrought,  excited,  and  off  her  guard,  and 
spoke  from  a  deep  impulse.  "A  woman,  in  giving  herself, 
gives  everything.  If  he  can't  give  up  a  scruple — I  mean 
if  his  loyalty  is  so  slight  that  his  mother's  wishes  and  dead 
ancestors — " 

"My  dear  little  girl,  you  are  not  under  the  slightest  ob- 
ligation to  give  anything,"  resumed  her  father,  discreetly 
oblivious  to  the  significance  of  her  words.  "If  you  care  to 
give  a  little  good-will  and  kindness  to  one  whom  you  have 
granted  the  right  to  visit  you,  they  will  tend  to  confirm  and 
develop  the  better  and  manly  qualities  he  is  now  manifest- 
ing. You  know  I  have  peculiar  faculties  of  finding  out 
about  people,  and,  incidentally  and  casually,  I  have  in- 
formed myself  about  this  Mr.  Merwyn.  I  think  I  can  truly 
say  that  he  is  doing  all  and  more  than  could  be  expected 
of  a  young  fellow  in  his  circumstances,  with  the  one  excep- 
tion that  he  does  not  put  on  our  uniform  and  go  to  the 
front.  He  may  have  reasons — very  possibly,  as  you  think, 
mistaken  and  inadequate  ones — which,  nevertheless,  are 
binding  on  his  conscience.  What  else  could  his  words 
mean  to-night?  He  is  not  living  a  life  of  pleasure-seek- 
ing and  dissipation,  like  so  many  other  young  nabobs  in 
the  city.  Apparently  he  has  not  sought  much  other  society 
than  yours.  Pardon  me  for  saying  it,  but  you  have  not 
given  him  much  encouragement  to  avoid  the  temptations 
that  are  likely  to  assail  a  lonely,  irresponsible  young  fellow. 
In  one  sense  you  are  under  no  obligation  to  do  this;  in  an- 
other, perhaps  you  are,  for  you  must  face  the  fact  that  you 
have  great  influence  over  him.  This  influence  you  must 
either  use  or  throw  away,  as  you  decide.  You  are  not  re- 
sponsible for  this  influence;  neither  are  your  friends  respon- 
sible for  the  war.  When  it  came,  however,  they  faced  the 
disagreeable  and  dangerous  duties  that  it  brought." 

"Oh,  papa!  I  have  been  a  stupid,  resentful  fool." 

"No,  my  dear;  at  the  worst  you  have  been  misled  by 


FEARS    AND    PERPLEXITIES  215 

generous  and  loyal  impulses.  Your  deep  sympathy  with 
recent  events  has  made  you  morbid,  and  therefore  unfair. 
To  your  mind  Mr.  Merwyn  represented  the  half-hearted 
element  that  shuns  meeting  what  must  be  met  at  every 
cost.  If  this  were  true  of  him  I  should  share  in  your 
spirit,  but  he  appears  to  be  trying  to  be  loyal  and  to 
do  what  he  can  in  the  face  of  obstacles  greater  than  many 
overcome." 

"I  don't  believe  he  will  ever  come  near  me  again!"  she 
exclaimed. 

"Then  you  are  absolved  in  the  future.  Of  course  we 
can  make  no  advances  toward  a  man  who  has  been  your 
suitor." 

Merwyn's  course  promised  to  fulfil  her  fear — she  now 
acknowledged  to  herself  that  it  was  a  fear — for  his  visits 
ceased.  She  tried  to  dismiss  him  from  her  thoughts,  but 
a  sense  of  her  unfairness  and  harshness  haunted  her.  She 
did  not  see  why  she  had  not  taken  her  father's  view,  or 
why  she  had  thrown  away  her  influence  that  accorded  with 
che  scheme  of  life  to  which  she  had  pledged  herself.  The 
very  restraint  indicated  by  his  words  was  a  mystery,  and 
mvsteries  are  fascinating.  She  remembered,  with  compunc- 
tion, that  not  even  his  own  mother  had  sought  to  develop 
a  true,  manly  spirit  in  him.  "Now  he  is  saying,"  she 
thought,  bitterly,  "that  I,  too,  am  a  fanatic — worse  than 
his  mother." 

Weeks  passed  and  she  heard  nothing  from  him,  nor  did 
her  father  mention  his  name.  While  her  regret  was  distinct 
and  positive,  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  it  gave  her  seri- 
ous trouble.  Indeed,  the  letters  of  Mr.  Lane,  and  the  semi- 
humorous  journal  of  Strahan  and  Blauvelt,  together  with 
the  general  claims  of  society  and  her  interest  in  her  father's 
deep  anxieties,  were  fe~*  banishing  it  from  her  mind,  when, 
to  her  surprise,  his  caret  was  handed  to  her  one  stormy  after- 
noon, late  in  January. 

"I  am  sorry  to  intrude  upon  you,  Miss  Vosburgh,  '  he 
began,   as  she  appeared,   "but — " 


216  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Why  should  you  regard  it  as  an  intrusion,  Mr. 
Merwyn  ?" 

"I  think  a  lady  has  a  right  to  regard  any  unwelcome 
society  as  an  intrusion/' 

"Admitting  even  so  much,  it  does  not  follow  that  this 
is  an  intrusion,"  she  said,  laughing.  Then  she  added,  with 
slightly  heightened  color:  "Mr.  Merwyn,  I  must  at  least 
keep  my  own  self-respect,  and  this  requires  an  acknowledg- 
ment. I  was  rude  to  you  when  you  last  called.  But  I  was 
morbid  from  anxiety  and  worry  over  what  was  happening. 
I  had  no  right  to  grant  your  request  to  call  upon  me  and 
then  fail  in  courtesy." 

"Will  you,  then,  permit  me  to  renew  my  old  request?" 
he  asked,  with  an  eagerness  that  he  could  not  disguise. 

"Certainly  not.  That  would  imply  such  utter  failure 
on  my  part!  You  should  be  able  to  forgive  me  one  slip, 
remembering  the  circumstances." 

"You  have  the  most  to  forgive,"  he  replied,  humbly. 
"I  asked  for  little  more  than  toleration,  but  I  felt  that  I  had 
not  the  right  to  force  even  this  upon  you." 

"I  am  glad  you  are  inclined  to  be  magnanimous,"  she 
replied,  laughing.  "Women  usually  take  advantage  of  that 
trait  in  men— when  they  manifest  it.  We'll  draw  a  line 
through  the  evening  of  the  20th  of  December,  and,  as 
Jefferson  says,  in  his  superb  impersonation  of  poor  old 
Rip,  l It  don't  count.'  By  the  way,  have  you  seen  him?" 
she  asked,  determined  that  the  conversation  should  take 
a  different  channel. 

"No;  I  have  been  busy  of  late.  But  pardon  me,  Miss 
Vosburgh,  I'm  forgetting  my  errand  shamefully.  Do  not 
take  the  matter  too  seriously.  I  think  you  have  no  reason 
to  do  so.  Mr.  Strakaii  is  in  the  city  and  is  ill.  I  have  just 
come  from  him. " 

Her  face  paled  instantly,  and  she  sank  into  a  chair. 

"I  beg  of  you  not  to  be  so  alarmed,"  he  added,  hastily. 
"I  shall  not  conceal  anything  from  you.  By  the  merest 
chance  I  saw  him  coming  up  Broadway  in  a  carriage,  and, 


FEARS    AND    PERPLEXITIES  217 

observing  that  he  looked  ill,  jumped  into  a  hack  and  fol- 
lowed him  to  his  residence.  You  had  reason  for  your 
anxiety  on  December  2Uth,  for  he  took  a  severe  cold  from 
exposure  that  night.  For  a  time  he  made  light  of  it,  but 
at  last  obtained  sick-leave.     He  asked  me  to  tell  you — " 

41  He  has  scarcely  mentioned  the  fact  that  he  was  not 
well;"  and  there  was  an  accent  of  reproach  in  the  young 
girl's  tones. 

4iI  understand  Strahan  better  than  I  once  did,  perhaps 
because  better  able  to  understand  him,"  was  Merwyn's 
quiet  reply.  tlHe  is  a  brave,  generous  fellow,  and,  no 
doubt,  wished  to  save  you  from  anxiety.  There  has  been 
no  chance  for  him  to  say  very  much  to  me." 

••  Was  he  expected  by  his  family  ?" 

4 'They  were  merely  informed,  by  a  telegram,  that  he  was 
on  his  way.  He  is  not  so  well  as  when  he  started.  Natu- 
rally he  is  worse  for  the  journey.  Moreover,  he  used  these 
words,  'I  felt  that  I  was  going  to  be  ill  and  wished  to  get 
home.' 

"Has  a  physician   seen   him  yet?" 

"Yes,  I  brought  their  family  physician  in  the  hack, 
which  I  had  kept  waiting.  He  fears  that  it  will  be  some 
time  before  his  patient  is  out  again.  I  have  never  been 
seriously  ill  myself,  but  I  am  sure— I  mean,  I  have  heard 
— that  a  few  words  often  have  great  influence  m  aiding  one 
in  Strahan's  condition  to  triumph  over  disease.  It  is  often 
a  question  of  will  and  courage,  you  know.  I  will  take  a 
note  to  him  if  you  wish.  Poor  fellow!  he  may  have  his 
biggest  fight  on  hand  while  the  others  are  resting  in  winter 
quarters. 

"I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  avail  myself  of  your  offer. 
Please  excuse  me  a  moment." 

When  she  returned  he  saw  traces  of  tears  in  her  eyes. 
She  asked,  eagerly,  "Will  you  see  him  often?" 

"I  shall  call  daily. " 

44  Would  it  be  too  much  trouble  for  you  to  let  me  know 
how  he  is,  should  he  be  very  seriously  ill?"     Then,  remem- 

ROE— VI  — 10 


218  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

bering  that  this  might  lead  to  calls  more  frequent  than  she 
was  ready  to  receive,  or  than  he  would  find  it  convenient  to 
make,  she  added:  ilI  suppose  you  are  often  downtown  and 
might  leave  word  with  papa  at  his  office.  I  have  merely  a 
formal  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Strahan  and  her  daughters, 
and,  if  Mr.  Strahan  should  be  very  ill,  I  should  have  to  rely 
upon  you  for  information." 

klI  shall  make  sure  that  you  learn  of  his  welfare  daily 
until  he  is  able  to  write  to  you,  and  I  esteem  it  a  privilege 
to  render  you  this  service.7' 

He  then  bowed  and  turned  away,  and  she  did  not  detain 
him.  Indeed,  her  mind  was  so  absorbed  by  her  friend's 
danger  that  she  could  not  think  of  much  else. 

The  next  day  a  note,  addressed  to  Mr.  Vosburgh,  was 
left  at  his  office,  giving  fuller  particulars  of  Strahan's  ill- 
ness, which  threatened  to  be  very  serious  indeed.  High 
fever  had  been  developed,  and  the  young  soldier  had  lost 
all  intelligent  consciousness.  Days  followed  in  which  this 
fever  was  running  its  course,  and  Merwyn's  reports,  omi- 
nous in  spite  of  all  effort  to  disguise  the  deep  anxiety  felt 
by  Strahan^  friends,  were  made  only  through  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh. Marian  began  to  regret  her  suggestion  that  the  in- 
formation should  come  in  this  way,  for  she  now  felt  that 
Merwyn  had  received  the  impression  that  his  presence  would 
not  be  agreeable.  She  was  eager  for  more  details  and  op- 
pressed with  the  foreboding  that  she  would  never  see  her 
lightvhearted  friend  again.  She  was  almost  tempted  to  ask 
Merwyn  to  call,  but  felt  a  strange  reluctance  to  do  so. 

"I  gave  him  sufficient  encouragement  to  continue  his 
visits,"  she  thought,  l4and  he  should  distinguish  between 
the  necessity  of  coming  every  day  and  the  privilege  of  com- 
ing occasionally." 

One  evening  her  father  looked  very  grave  as  he  handed 
Marian  the  note  addressed  to  him. 

k'Oh,  papa!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  "he's  worse!" 
"Yes,    I    fear  Strahan   is  in   a   very  critical  condition. 
I  happened  to  meet  Merwyn  when  he  left  the  note  to-day, 


FEARS    AND    PERPLEXITIES  219 

and  the  young  fellow  himself  looked  haggard  and  ill.  But 
he  carelessly  assured  me  that  he  was  perfectly  well.  He 
said  that  the  crisis  of  Strahan1  s  fever  was  approaching,  and 
that  the  indications  were  bad." 

"Papa!"  cried  the  girl,  tearfully,  "I  can't  endure  this 
suspense  and  inaction.  Why  would  it  be  bad  taste  for  us 
to  call  on  Mrs.  Strahan  this  evening?  She  must  know  how 
dear  a  friend  Arthur  is  to  me.  I  don't  care  for  convention- 
ality in  a  case  like  this.  It  seems  cold-blooded  to  show  no 
apparent  interest,  and  it  might  do  Arthur  good  if  he  should 
learn  that  we  had  been  there  because  of  our  anxiety  and 
sympathy.' ' 

'"Well,  my  dear,  what  you  suggest  is  the  natural  and 
loyal  course,  and  therefore  outweighs  all  conventionality 
in  my  mind.      We'll  go  after  dinner." 

Marian's  doubt  as  to  her  reception  by  Mrs.  Strahan  was 
speedily  dispelled,  for  the  sorrow-stricken  mother  was  almost 
affectionate  in  her  welcome. 

"Arthur,  in  his  delirium,  often  mentions  your  name," 
she  said,  "and  then  he  is  in  camp  or  battle  again,  or  else 
writing  his  journal.  I  have  thought  of  sending  for  you,  but 
he  wouldn't  have  known  you.  He  does  not  even  recognize 
me,  and  has  not  for  days.  Our  physician  commands  abso- 
lute quiet  and  as  little  change  in  those  about  him  as  possi- 
ble. What  we  should  have  done  without  Mr.  Merwyn  I 
scarcely  know.  He  is  with  him  now,  and  has  watched  every 
night  since  Arthur's  return.  I  never  saw  any  one  so 
changed,  or  else  we  didn't  understand  him.  He  is  tireless 
in  his  strength,  and  womanly  in  his  patience.  His  vigils 
are  beginning  to  tell  on  him  sadly,  but  he  says  that  he  will 
not  give  up  till  the  crisis  is  past.  If  Arthur  lives  he  will 
owe  his  life  largely  to  one  who,  last  summer,  appeared  too 
indolent  to  think  of  anything  but  his  own  pleasure.  How 
we  often  misjudge  people!  They  were  boys  and  playmates 
together,  and  are  both  greatly  changed.  Oh,  Miss  Vos- 
burgh,  my  heart  just  stands  still  with  dread  when  I  think 
of  what  may  soon  happen.      Arthur  had  become  so  manly, 


220  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

and  we  were  so  proud  of  him !  He  has  written  me  more  than 
once  of  your  influence,  and  I  had  hoped  that  the  way  might 
open  for  our  better  acquaintance." 

"Do  you  think  the  crisis  may  come  to-night?"  Marian 
asked,  with  quivering  lips. 

"Yes,  it  may  come  now  at  any  hour.  The  physician 
will  remain  all  night." 

"Oh,  I  wish  I  might  know  early  in  the  morning.  Believe 
me,  I  shall  not  sleep." 

"You  shall  know,  Miss  Vosburgh,  and  I  hope  you  will 
come  and  see  me,  whatever  happens.  You  will  please  ex- 
cuse me  now,  for  I  cannot  be  away  from  Arthur  at  this  time. 
I  would  not  have  seen  any  one  but  you. ' ' 

At  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  there  was  a  ring  at  Mr. 
Vosburgh's  door.  He  opened  it,  and  Merwyn  stood  there 
wrapped  in  his  fur  cloak.  "Will  you  please  give  this  note 
to  Miss  Vosburgh?"  he  said.  "I  think  it  contains  words 
that  will  bring  welcome  relief  and  hope.  I  would  not  have 
disturbed  you  at  this  hour  had  I  not  seen  your  light  burn- 
ing;1' and,  before  Mr.  Vosburgh  could  reply,  he  lifted  his 
hat  and  strode  away. 

The  note  ran  as  follows: 

"My  dear  Miss  Vosburgh— Arthur  became  conscious  a  little  before 
twelve.  He  was  fearfully  weak,  and  for  a  time  his  life  appeared  to  nicker. 
I  alone  was  permitted  to  be  with  him.  After  a  while  I  whispered  that  you 
had  been  here.  He  smiled  and  soon  fell  into  a  quiet  sleep.  Our  physician 
now  gives  us  strong  hopes. 

"Sincerely  and  gratefully  yours, 

"Charlotte  Strahan." 

Marian,  who  had  been  sleepless  from  thoughts  more 
evenly  divided  between  her  friend  and  Merwyn  than  she 
would  have  admitted  even  to  herself,  handed  the  note  to 
her  father.  Her  face  indicated  both  gladness  and  perplex- 
ity.    He  read  and  returned  it  with  a  smile. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  "you  have  a  man's  straightforward 
common-sense.     I  am  only  a  little  half-girl  and  half-woman. 


FEARS    AKD    PERPLEXITIES  221 

Do  you  know,  I  almost  fear  that  both  Mrs.  Strahan  and  Mr. 
Merwyn  believe  I  am  virtually  engaged  to  Arthur." 

11  Their  belief  can't  engage  you,"  said  her  father,  laugh- 
ing. "Young  Strahan  will  get  well,  thanks  to  you  and 
Merwyn.  Mrs.  Strahan  said  that  both  were  greatly  changed. 
Merwyn  certainly  must  have  a  hardy  nature,  for  he  improves 
under  a  steady  frost." 

"Papa!"  cried  Marian,  with  a  vivid  blush,  "you  are  a 
deeper  and  more  dangerous  ally  of  Mr.  Merwyn  than 
mamma.  I  am  on  my  guard  against  you  both,  and  I 
shall  retire  at  once  before  you  begin  a,  panegyric  that  will 
cease  only  when  you  find  I  am  asleep." 

11  Yes,  my  dear,  go  and  sleep  the  sleep  of  the  unjust!" 


222  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER   XXII 

A  girl's  thoughts  and  impulses 

SLEEP,  which  Marian  said  would  cut  short  her  father's 
threatened  panegyrics  of  Merwyn,  did  not  come  speed- 
ily. The  young  girl  had  too  much  food  for  thought. 
She  knew  that  Mrs.  Strahan  had  not,  during  the  past 
summer,  misunderstood  her  son's  faithful  nurse.  In  spite 
of  all  prejudice  and  resentment,  in  spite  of  the  annoying 
fact  that  he  would  intrude  so  often  upon  her  thoughts,  she 
had  to  admit  the  truth  that  he  was  greatly  changed,  and 
that,  while  she  might  be  the  cause,  she  could  take  to  her- 
self no  credit  for  the  transformation.  To  others  she  had 
given  sincere  and  cordial  encouragement.  Toward  him  she 
had  been  harsh  and  frigid.  He  must  indeed  possess  a  hardy 
nature,  or  else  a  cold  persistence  that  almost  made  her  shiver, 
it  was  so  indomitable. 

She  felt  that  she  did  not  understand  him;  and  she  both 
shrunk  from  his  character  and.  was  fascinated  by  it.  She 
could  not  now  charge  him  with  disregard  of  her  feelings 
and  lack  of  delicacy.  His  visits  had  ceased  when  he  be- 
lieved them  to  be  utterly  repugnant;  he  had  not  availed 
himself  of  the  opportunity  to  see  her  often  afforded  by 
Strahan's  illness,  and  had  been  quick  to  take  the  hint  that 
he  could  send  his  reports  to  her  father.  There  had  been  no 
efiort  to  make  her  aware  of  his  self-sacrificing  devotion  to 
her  friend.  The  thing  that  was  irritating  her  was  that  he 
could  approach  so  nearly  to  her  standard  and  yet  fail  in  a 
point  that  to  her  was  vital.  His  course  indicated  unknown 
characteristics  or  circumstances,  and  she  felt  that  she  could 


A    G1RUS    THOUGHTS    AND    IMPULSES  223 

never  give  him  her  confidence  and  unreserved  regard  while 
he  iell  short  of  the  test  of  manhood  which  she  believed  that 
the  times  demanded.  If  underneath  all  his  apparent  changes 
for  the  better  there  was  an  innate  lack  of  courage  to  meet 
danger  and  hardship,  or  else  a  cold,  calculating  purpose  not 
to  take  these  risks,  she  would  shrink  from  him  in  strong  re- 
pulsion. She  knew  that  the  war  had  developed  not  a  few 
constitutional  cowards — men  to  be  pitied,  it  is  true,  but 
with  a  commiseration  that,  in  her  case,  would  be  mingled 
with  contempt.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  reasoned,  k'I  will 
win  her  if  I  can;  I  will  do  all  and  more  than  she  can  ask, 
but  I  will  not  risk  the  loss  of  a  lifetime's  enjoyment  of  my 
wealth,''  she  would  quietly  say  to  him  by  her  manner:  "En- 
joy your  wealth.  1  can  have  no  part  in  such  a  scheme  of 
existence;  I  will  not  give  my  hand,  even  in  friendship,  to  a 
man  who  would  do  less  than  I  would,  were  I  in  his  place." 

If  her  lather  was  right,  and  he  had  scruples  of  con- 
science, or  some  other  unknown  restraint,  she  felt  that  she 
must  know  all  before  she  would  give  her  trust  and  more. 
If  he  could  not  satisfy  her  on  these  points,  as  others  had 
done  so  freely  and  spontaneously,  he  had  no  right  to  ask 
or  expect  more  from  her  than  ordinary  courtesy. 

Having  thus  resolutely  considered  antidotes  for  a  ten- 
dency toward  relentings  not  at  all  to  her  mind,  and  met, 
as  she  believed,  her  father's  charge  of  unfairness,  her 
thoughts,  full  of  sympathy  and  hope,  dwelt  upon  the 
condition  of  her  friend.  Kecalling  the  past  and  the  pres- 
ent, her  heart  grew  very  tender,  and  she  found  that  he  oc- 
cupied in  it  a  foremost  place.  Indeed,  it  seemed  to  her  a 
species  of  disloyalty  to  permit  any  one  to  approach  his  place 
and  that  of  Mr.  Lane,  for  both  formed  an  inseparable  part  of 
her  new  and  more  earnest  life. 

She,  too,  had  changed,  and  was  changing.  As  her  na- 
ture deepened  and  grew  stronger  it  was  susceptible  of  deeper 
and  stronger  influences.  Under  the  old  regime  pleasure, 
excitement,  triumphs  of  power  that  ministered  to  vanity, 
had  been  her  superficial  motives.     To  the  degree  that  she 


221  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

had  now  attained  true  womanhood,  the  influences  that  act 
upon  and  control  a  woman  were  in  the  ascendant.  Love 
ceased  to  dwell  in  her  mind  as  a  mere  fastidious  preference, 
nor  could  marriage  ever  be  a  calculating  choice,  made  with 
the  view  of  securing  the  greatest  advantages.  She  knew 
that  earnest  men  loved  her  without  a  thought  of  calcula- 
tion— loved  her  for  herself  alone.  She  called  them  friends 
now,  and  to  her  they  were  no  more  as  yet.  But  their  down- 
right sincerity  made  her  sincere  and  thoughtful.  Her  es- 
teem and  affection  for  them  were  so  great  that  she  was  not  at 
all  certain  that  circumstances  and  fuller  acquaintance  might 
not  develop  her  regard  toward  one  or  the  other  of  them  into 
a  far  deeper  feeling.  In  their  absence,  their  manly  quali- 
ties appealed  to  her  imagination.  She  had  reached  a  stage 
in  spiritual  development  where  her  woman's  nature  was 
ready  for  its  supreme  requirement.  She  could  be  more 
than  friend,  and  was  conscious  of  the  truth;  and  she  be- 
lieved that  her  heart  would  make  a  positive  and  final 
choice  in  accord  with  her  intense  and  loyal  sympathies. 
In  the  great  drama  of  the  war  centred  all  that  ideal  and 
knightly  action  that  has  ever  been  so  fascinating  to  her 
sex,  and  daily  conversation  with  her  father  had  enabled 
her  to  understand  what  lofty  principles  and  great  destinies 
were  involved.  She  had  been  shown  how  President  Lin- 
coln's proclamation,  freeing  the  slaves,  had  aimed  a  fatal 
blow  at  the  chief  enemies  of  liberty,  not  only  in  this  land, 
but  in  all  lands.  Mr.  Vosburgh  was  a  philosophical  student 
of  history,  and,  now  that  she  had  become  his  companion,  he 
made  it  clear  to  her  how  the  present  was  linked  to  the  past. 
Instead  of  being  imbued  with  vindictiveness  toward  the 
South,  she  was  made  to  see  a  brave,  self-sacrificing,  but 
misled  people,  seeking  to  rivet  their  own  chains  and  blight 
the  future  of  their  fair  land.  Therefore,  a  man  like  Lane, 
capable  of  appreciating  and  acting  npon  these  truths,  took 
heroic  proportions  in  her  fancy,  while  Strahan,  almost  as 
delicate  as  a  girl,  yet  brave  as  the  best,  won,  in  his  straight- 
forward simplicity,   her  deepest  sympathy.      The  fact  that 


A    GIRL'S    THOUGHTS    AND    IMPULSES  225 

the  latter  was  near,  that  his  heart  had  turned  to  her  even 
from  under  the  shadow  of  death,  gave  him  an  ascendency 
for  the  time. 

"To  some  such  man  I  shall  eventually  yield,"  she  as- 
sured herself,  "and  not  to  one  who  brings  a  chill  of  doubt, 
not  to  one  unmastered  by  loyal  impulses  to  face  every  dan- 
ger which  our  enemies  dare  meet." 

Then  she  slept,  and  dreamed  that  she  saw  Strahan  reach- 
ing out  his  hands  to  her  for  help  from  dark,  unknown  depths. 

She  awoke  sobbing,  and,  under  the  confused  impulse  of 
the  moment,  exclaimed:  "He  shall  have  all  the  help  I  can 
give;  he  shall  live.  While  he  is  weaker,  he  is  braver  than 
Mr.  Lane.  He  triumphed  over  himself  and  everything.  He 
most  needs  me.  Mr.  Lane  is  strong  in  himself.  Why  should 
1  be  raising  such  lofty  standards  of  self-sacrifice  when  I  can- 
not give  love  to  one  who  most  needs  it,  most  deserves  it?" 


226  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

"my  friendship  is  mine  to  give" 

STRAHAN'S  convalescence  need  not  be  dwelt  upon 
nor  the  subtle  aid  given  by  Marian  through  flowers, 
fruit,  and  occasional  calls  upon  his  mother. 
These  little  kindnesses  were  tonics  beyond  the  physi- 
cian's skill,  and  he  grew  stronger  daily.  Mrs.  Strahan 
believed  that  things  were  taking  their  natural  course,  and, 
with  the  delicacy  of  a  lady,  was  content  to  welcome  the 
young  girl  in  a  quiet,  cordial  manner.  Merwyn  tacitly 
accepted  the  mother's  view,  which  she  had  not  wholly 
concealed  in  the  sick-room,  and  which  he  thought  had 
been  confirmed  by  Marian's  manner  and  interest.  With 
returning  health  Strahan 's  old  sense  of  humor  revived, 
and  he  often  smiled  and  sighed  over  the  misapprehension. 
Had  he  been  fully  aware  of  Marian's  mood,  he  might  have 
given  his  physician  cause  to  look  grave  over  an  apparent  re- 
turn of  fever. 

In  the  reticence  and  delicacy  natural  to  all  the  actors  in 
this  little  drama,  thoughts  were  unspoken,  and  events  drifted 
on  in  accordance  with  the  old  relations.  Merwyn's  self-im- 
posed duties  of  nurse  became  lighter,  and  he  took  much- 
needed  rest.  Strahan  felt  for  him  the  strongest  good-will 
and  gratitude,  but  grew  more  and  more  puzzled  about  him. 
Apparently  the  convalescent  was  absolutely  frank  concern- 
ing himself.  He  spoke  of  his  esteem  and  regard  for  Marian 
as°he  always  had  done;  his  deeper  affection  he  never  breathed 
to  any  one,  although  he  believed  the  young  girl  was  aware 
of  it,  and  he  did  not  in  the  least  blame  her  that  she  had  no 
power  to  give  him  more  than  friendship. 


41  MY   FRIENDSHIP   IS    MINE    TO    GIVE"  227 

Of  his  military  plans  and  hopes  he  spoke  without  re- 
serve to  Merwyn,  but  in  return  received  little  confidence. 
He  could  not  doubt  the  faithful  attendant  who  had  virtually 
twice  saved  his  life,  but  he  soon  found  a  barrier  of  impene- 
trable reserve,  which  did  not  yield  to  any  manifestations  of 
friendliness.  Strahan  at  last  came  to  believe  that  it  veiled 
a  deep,  yet  hopeless  regard  for  Marian.  This  view,  how- 
ever, scarcely  explained  the  situation,  for  he  found  his 
friend  even  more  reticent  in  respect  to  the  motives  which 
kept  him  a  civilian. 

"I'd  give  six  months'  pay,"  said  the  young  officer,  on 
one  occasion,  "if  we  had  you  in  our  regiment,  and  I -am 
satisfied  that  I  could  obtain  a  commission  for  you.  You 
would  be  sure  of  rapid  promotion.  Indeed,  with  your 
wealth  and  influence  you  could  secure  a  lieutenant-colo- 
nelcy in  a  new  regiment  by  spring.  Believe  me,  Merwyn, 
the  place  for  us  young  fellows  is  at  the  front  in  these  times. 
My  blood's  up — what  little  I  have  left — and  I'm  bound  to 
see  the  scrimmage  out.  You  have  just  the  qualities  to 
make  a  good  officer.  You  could  control  and  discipline 
men  without  bluster  or  undue  harshness.  We  need  such 
officers,  for  an  awful  lot  of  cads  have  obtained  commis- 
sions." 

Merwyn  had  walked  to  a  window  so  that  his  friend  could 
not  see  his  face,  and  at  last  he  replied,  quietly  and  almost 
coldly:  "There  are  some  things,  Strahan,  in  respect  to  which 
one  cannot  judge  for  another.  I  am  as  loyal  as  you  are  now, 
but  I  must  aid  the  cause  in  my  own  way.  I  would  prefer 
that  you  should  not  say  anything  more  on  this  subject,  for 
it  is  of  no  use.  I  have  taken  my  course,  and  shall  reveal  it 
only  by  my  action.  There  is  one  thing  that  I  can  do,  and 
shall  be  very  glad  to  do.  I  trust  we  are  such  good  friends 
that  you  can  accept  of  my  offer.  Your  regiment  has  been 
depleted.  New  men  would  render  it  more  effective  and  add 
to  your  chances  of  promotion.  It  will  be  some  time  before 
you  are  fit  for  active  service.  I  can  put  you  in  the  way  of 
doing  more  than  your  brother-officers  in  the  regiment,  even 


228  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

though  you  are  as  pale  as  a  ghost.  Open  a  recruiting  office 
near  your  country  home  again — you  can  act  at  present  through 
a  sergeant — and  I  will  give  you  a  check  which  will  enable  you 
to  add  to  the  government  bounty  so  largely  that  you  can  soon 
get  a  lot  of  hardy  country  fellows.  No  one  need  know  where 
the  money  comes  from  except  ourselves." 

Strahan  laughed,  and  said:  "It  is  useless  for  me  to  af- 
fect squeamishness  in  accepting  favors  from  you  at  this  late 
day.  I  believed  you  saved  my  life  last  summer,  and  now 
you  are  almost  as  haggard  as  I  am  from  watching  over  me. 
I'll  take  your  offer  in  good  faith,  as  1  believe  you  mean  it. 
I  won't  pose  as  a  self-sacrificing  patriot  only.  I  confess 
that  I  am  ambitious.  You  fellows  used  to  call  me  'little 
Strahan. '  You  are  all  right  now,  but  there  are  some  who 
smile  yet  when  my  name  is  mentioned,  and  who  regard  my 
shoulder-straps  as  a  joke.  I've  no  doubt  they  are  already 
laughing  at  the  inglorious  end  of  my  military  career.  I 
propose  to  prove  that  I  can  be  a  soldier  as  well  as  some 
bigger  and  more  bewhiskered  men.  I  have  other  motives 
also;"  and  his  thought  was,  "Marian  may  feel  differently 
if  I  can  win  a  colonel's  eagles." 

Merwyn  surmised  as  much,  but  he  only  said,  quietly: 
"Your  motives  are  as  good  as  most  men's,  and  you  have 
proved  yourself  a  brave,  efficient  officer.  That  would  be 
enough  for  me,  had  1  not  other  motives  also." 

"Hang  it  all!  I  would  tell  you  my  motives  if  you  would 
be  equally  frank." 

"Since  I  cannot  be,  you  must  permit  me  to  give  other 
proofs  of  friendship.  Nor  do  I  expect,  indeed  I  should  be 
embarrassed  by  receiving,  what  I  cannot  return." 

"You're  an  odd  fish,  Merwyn.  Well,  I  have  ample  rea- 
son to  give  you  my  faith  and  loyalty,  as  I  do.  Your  propo- 
sition has  put  new  life  into  me  already.  I  needn't  spend 
idle  weeks — " 

"Hold  on.  One  stipulation.  Your  physician  must  regu- 
late all  your  actions.  Remember  that  here,  as  at  the  front, 
the  physician  is,  at  times,  autocrat." 


"MY   FRIENDSHIP   IS    MINE    TO    GIVE"  229 

Merwyn  called  twice  on  Marian  during  his  friend's  con- 
valescence, and  could  no  longer  complain  of  any  lack  of 
politeness.  Indeed,  her  courtesy  was  slightly  tinged  with 
cordiality,  and  she  took  occasion  to  speak  of  her  apprecia- 
tion of  his  vigils  at  Strahan's  side.  Beyond  this  she  showed 
no  disposition  toward  friendliness.  At  the  same  time,  she 
could  not  even  pretend  to  herself  that  she  was  indifferent. 
He  piqued  both  her  pride  and  her  curiosity,  for  he  made  no 
further  effort  to  reveal  himself  or  to  secure  greater  favor 
than  she  voluntarily  bestowed.  She  believed  that  her 
father  looked  upon  her  course  as  an  instance  of  feminine 
prejudice,  of  resentment  prolonged  unnaturally  and  capri- 
ciously— that  he  was  saying  to  himself,  "A  man  would 
quarrel  and  have  done  with  it  after  amends  were  made, 
but  a  woman — " 

4 ' He  regards  this  as  my  flaw,  my  weakness,  wherein  I  differ 
from  him  and  his  kind,"  she  thought.  "I  can't  help  it.  Cir- 
cumstances have  rendered  it  impossible  for  me  to  feel  to- 
ward Mr.  Merwyn  as  toward  other  men.  I  have  thought  the 
matter  out  and  have  taken  my  stand.  If  he  wishes  more 
than  I  now  give  he  must  come  up  to  my  ground,  for  I  shall 
not  go  down  to  his." 

She  misunderstood  her  father.  That  sagacious  gentle- 
man said  nothing,  and  quietly  awaited  developments. 

It  was  a  glad  day  for  Arthur  Strahan  when,  wrapped  and 
muffled  beyond  all  danger,  he  was  driven,  in  a  close  car- 
riage, to  make  an  afternoon  visit  to  Marian.  She  greeted 
him  with  a  kindness  that  warmed  his  very  soul,  and  even 
inspired  hopes  which  he  had,  as  yet,  scarcely  dared  to  enter- 
tain. Time  sped  by  with  all  the  old  easy  interchange  of 
half-earnest  nonsense.  A  deep  chord  of  truth  and  affection 
vibrated  through  even  jest  and  merry  repartee.  Yet,  so 
profound  are  woman's  intuitions  in  respect  to  some  things, 
that,  now  she  was  face  to  face  with  him  again,  she  feared, 
before  an  hour  passed,  that  he  could  never  be  more  to  her 
than  when  she  had  given  him  loyal  friendship  in  the  vine* 
covered  cottage  in  the  country. 


230  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

44By  the  way,"  he  remarked,  abruptly,  "I  suppose  you 
never  punished  Merwyn  as  we  both,  at  one  time,  felt  that 
he  deserved  ?  He  admits  that  he  calls  upon  you  quite  fre- 
quently, and  speaks  of  you  in  terms  of  strongest  respect. 
You  know  I  am  his  sincere,  grateful  friend  henceforth.  I 
don't  pretend  to  understand  him,  but  I  trust  him,  and  wish 
him  well  from  the  depths  of  my  heart. ' ' 

"I  also  wish  him  well,"  Marian  remarked,  quietly. 

He  looked  at  her  doubtfully  for  a  moment,  then  said, 
44 Well,  I  suppose  you  have  reasons  for  resentment,  but  I 
assure  you  he  has  changed  very  greatly." 

4 'How  do  you  know  that,  when  you  don't  understand 
him?" 

44I  do  know  it,"  said  the  young  fellow,  earnestly. 
"Merwyn  never  was  like  other  people.  He  is  marked  by 
ancestry;  strong-willed,  reticent  on  one  side,  proud  and 
passionate  on  the  other.  My  own  mother  was  not  more  un- 
tiring and  gentle  with  me  than  he,  yet  if  I  try  to  penetrate 
his  reserve  he  becomes  at  once  distant,  and  almost  cold. 
When  I  thought  he  was  seeking  to  amuse  himself  with  you 
I  felt  like  strangling  him ;  now  that  I  know  he  has  a  sincere 
respect  for  you,  if  not  more,  I  have  nothing  against  him. 
I  wish  he  would  join  us  in  the  field,  and  have  said  as  much 
to  him  more  than  once.  He  has  the  means  to  raise  a  regi- 
ment himself,  and  there  are  few  possessing  more  natural 
ability  to  transform  raw  recruits  into  soldiers." 

44 Why  does  he  not  join  you  in  the  field?"  she  asked, 
quickly,  and  there  was  a  trace  of  indignation  in  her  tones. 

44I  do  not  think  he  will  ever  speak  of  his  reasons  to  any 
one.     At  least,  he  will  not  to  me." 

44  Very  well,"  she  said;  and  there  was  significance  in  her 
cold,  quiet  tone. 

44 They  result  from  no  lack  of  loyalty,"  earnestly  re- 
sumed Strahan,  who  felt  that  for  some  reason  he  was  not 
succeeding  as  his  friend's  advocate.  44He  has  generously 
increased  my  chances  of  promotion  by  giving  me  a  large 
sum  toward  recruiting  my  regiment." 


'•JfF    FRIENDSHIP    IS    VISE    TO    GIVE"  231 

"After  your  hard  experience,  are  you  fully  determined 
to  go  back?"  she  asked,  with  a  brilliant  smile.  "Surely 
you  have  proved  your  courage,  and,  with  your  impaired 
health,  you  have  a  good  reason  now  for  leaving  the  task 
to  stronger  men.'" 

""And  take  my  place  contentedly  among  the  weaker  ones 
in  your  estimation  ?"  he  added,  flushing.  "How  could  you 
suggest  or  think  such  a  thing  ?  Certainly  I  shall  go  back 
as  soon  as  my  physician  permits,  and  I  shall  go  to  stay  till 
the  end,  unless  I  am  knocked  over  or  disabled." 

Her  eyes  flashed  exultantly  as  she  came  swiftly  to  him. 
"Now  you  can  understand  me,"  she  said,  giving  him  her 
hand.  i4My  friendship  and  honor  are  for  men  like  you  and 
Mr.  Lane  and  Mr.  Blauvelt,  who  offer  all,  and  not  for  those 
who  offer ■ — money." 

"By  Jove.  Miss  Marian,  you  make  me  feel  as  if  I  could 
storm  Richmond  single-handed/' 

"Don't  think  I  say  this  in  any  callous  disregard  of  what 
may  happen.  God  knows  I  do  not;  but  in  times  like  these 
my  heart  chooses  friends  among  knightly  men  who  volun- 
tarily go  to  meet  other  men  as  brave.  Don't  let  us  talk  any 
more  about  Mr.  Merwyn.  I  shall  always  treat  him  politely, 
and  I  have  gratefully  acknowledged  my  indebtedness  for  his 
care  of  you.  He  understands  me,  and  will  give  me  no  op- 
portunity to  do  as  you  suggested,  were  I  so  inclined.  His 
conversation  is  that  of  a  cultivated  man,  and  as  such  I  enjoy 
it;   but  there  it  all  ends.  " 

"But  I  don't  feel  that  I  have  helped  my  friend  in  your 
good  graces  at  ail,"  protested  Strahan,  ruefully. 

"Has  he  commissioned  you  to  help  him?"  she  asked, 
quickly. 

"No,  no,  indeed.  You  don't  know  Merwyn,  or  you  never 
would  have  asked  that  question." 

"Well,  I  prefer  as  friends  those  whom  I  do  know,  who 
are  not  inshrouded  in  mystery  or  incased  in  reticence.  No, 
Arthur  Strahan,  my-  friendship  is  mine  to  give,  be  it  worth 
much  or  little.     If  he  does  not  care  enough  for  it  to  take 


232  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

the  necessary  risks,  when  the  bare  thought  of  shunning 
them  makes  you  flush  hotly,  he  cannot  have  it.  All  his 
wealth  could  not  buy  one  smile  from  me.  Now  let  all  this 
end.  I  respect  your  loyalty  to  him,  but  I  have  my  own 
standard,  and  shall  abide  by  it;"  and  she  introduced  an- 
other topic. 


A    FATHER'S   FORETHOUGHT  233 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  father's  forethought 

STRAHAN  improved  rapidly  in  health,  and  was  soon 
able  to  divide  his  time  between  his  city  and  his  coun- 
try home.  The  recruiting  station  near  the  latter  place 
was  successful  in  securing  stalwart  men,  who  were  tempted 
by  the  unusually  large  bounties  offered  through  Merwyn's 
gift.  The  young  officer  lost  no  opportunities  of  visiting 
Marian's  drawing-room,  and,  while  his  welcome  continued 
as  cordial  as  ever,  she,  nevertheless,  indicated  by  a  frank 
and  almost  sisterly  manner  the  true  state  of  her  feelings 
toward  him.  The  impulse  arising  at  the  critical  hour  of  his 
illness  speedily  died  away.  His  renewed  society  confirmed 
friendship,  but  awakened  nothing  more,  and  quieter  thoughts 
convinced  her  that  the  future  must  reveal  what  her  relations 
should  be  to  him  and  to  others. 

As  he  recovered  health  her  stronger  sympathy  went  out 
to  Mr.  Lane,  who  had  not  asked  for  leave  of  absence. 

"I  am  rampantly  well,"  he  wrote,  "and  while  my  heart 
often  travels  northward,  I  can  find  no  plausible  pretext  to 
follow.  I  may  receive  a  wound  before  long  which  will  give 
me  a  good  excuse,  since,  for  our  regiment,  there  is  prospect 
of  much  active  service  while  the  infantry  remain  in  winter 
quarters.  It  is  a  sad  truth  that  the  army  is  discouraged  and 
depleted  to  a  degree  never  known  before.  Homesickness  is 
epidemic.  A  man  shot  himself  the  other  day  because  re- 
fused a  furlough.  Desertions  have  been  fearfully  numerous 
among  enlisted  men,  and  officers  have  urged  every  possible 
excuse  for  leaves  of  absence.  A  man  with  my  appetite 
stands  no  chance    whatever,   and   our  regimental   surgeon 


234  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

laughs  when  I  assure  him  that  I  am  suffering  from  acute 
heart-disease.  Therefore,  my  only  hope  is  a  wound,  and 
I  welcome  our  prospective  raid  in  exchange  for  dreary 
picket  duty." 

Marian  knew  what  picket  duty  and  raiding  meant  in 
February  weather,  and  wrote  words  of  kindly  warmth  that 
sustained  her  friend  through  hard,  prosaic  service. 

She  also  saw  that  her  father  was  burdened  with  heavy 
cares  and  responsibilities.  Disloyal  forces  and  counsels  were 
increasing  in  the  great  centres  at  the  .North,  and  especially 
in  New  York  City.  Therefore  he  was  intrusted  with  duties 
of  the  most  delicate  and  difficult  nature.  It  was  her  con- 
stant effort  to  lead  him  to  forget  his  anxieties  during  such 
evenings  as  he  spent  at  home,  and  when  she  had  congenial 
callers  she  sometimes  prevailed  upon  him  to  take  part  in 
the  general  conversation.  It  so  happened,  one  evening,  that 
Strahan  and  Merwyn  were  both  present.  Seeing  that  the 
latter  felt  a  little  de  trop,  Mr.  Vosburgh  invited  him  to  light 
a  cigar  in  the  dining-room,  and  the  two  men  were  soon  en- 
gaged in  animated  talk,  the  younger  being  able  to  speak 
intelligently  of  the  feeling  in  England  at  the  time.  By 
thoughtful  questions  he  also  drew  out  his  host  in  regard 
to  affairs  at  home. 

The  two  guests  departed  together,  and  Marian,  observ- 
ing the  pleased  expression  on  her  father's  face,  remarked, 
"You  have  evidently  found  a  congenial  spirit." 

"I  found  a  young  fellow  who  had  ideas  and  who  was  not 
averse  to  receiving  more." 

ltYou  can  relieve  my  conscience  wholly,  papa,"  said  the 
young  girl,  laughing.  "When  Mr.  Merwyn  comes  here- 
after I  shall  turn  him  over  to  you.  He  will  then  receive 
ideas  and  good  influence  at  their  fountain-head.  You  and 
mamma  are  inclined  to  give  him  so  much  encouragement 
that  I  must  be  more  on  the  defensive  than  ever." 

4 'That  policy  would  suit  me  exactly,"  replied  her  father, 
with  a  significant  little  nod.  klI  don't  wish  to  lose  you,  and 
I'm  more  afraid  of  Merwyn  than  of  all  the  rest  together." 


A    FATHER'S    FORETHOUGHT  235 

"More  afraid  of  him/1'  exclaimed  the  girl,  with  widen- 
ing eyes. 

lt0f  him." 

lkWhy?" 

tl Because  you  don't  understand  him." 

" That's  an  excellent  reason  for  keeping  him  at  a  dis- 
tance. ' ' 

"Keason,  reason.  What  has  reason  to  do  with  affairs  of 
this  kind?" 

"Much,  in  my  case,  I  assure  you.  Thank  you  for  fore- 
warning me  so  plainly." 

"I've  no  dark  designs  against  your  peace." 

Nevertheless,  these  half-jesting  words  foreshadowed  the 
future,  so  far  as  Mr.  Vosburgh  and  Mr.  Merwyn  were  con- 
cerned. Others  were  usually  present  when  the  latter  called, 
and  he  always  seemed  to  enjoy  a  quiet  talk  with  the  elder 
man.  Mrs.  Vosburgh  never  failed  in  her  cordiality,  or  lost 
hope  that  his  visits  might  yet  lead  to  a  result  in  accordance 
with  her  wishes.  Marian  made  much  sport  of  their  protege, 
as  she  called  him,  and,  since  she  now  treated  him  with  the 
same  courtesy  that  other  mere  calling  acquaintances  re- 
ceived, the  habit  of  often  spending  part  of  the  evening  at 
the  modest  home  grew  upon  him.  Mr.  Vosburgh  soon  dis- 
covered that  the  young  man  was  a  student  of  American 
affairs  and  history.  This  fact  led  to  occasional  visits  by  the 
young  man  to  the  host's  library,  which  was  rich  in  litera- 
ture on  these  subjects. 

On  one  stormy  evening,  which  gave  immunity  from  other 
callers,  Marian  joined  them,  and  was  soon  deeply  interested 
herself.  Suddenly  becoming  conscious  of  the  fact,  she  bade 
them  an  abrupt  good-night  and  went  to  her  room  with  a 
little  frown  on  her  brow.     . 

"It's  simply  exasperating,"  she  exclaimed,  "to  see  a 
young  fellow  of  his  inches  absorbed  in  American  antiquities 
when  the  honor  and  liberty  of  America  are  at  stake.  Then, 
at  times,  he  permits  such  an  expression  of  sadness  to  come 
into  his*  big  black  eyes!     He  is  distant  enough,  but  I  can 


236  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

read  his  very  thoughts,  and  he  thinks  me  obduracy  itself. 
He  will  soon  return  to  his  elegant  home  and  proceed  to  be 
miserable  in  the  most  luxurious  fashion,  if  he  were  riding 
with  Mr.  Lane,  to-night,  on  a  raid,  he  would  soon  distinguish 
between  his  cherished  woe  and  a  soldier's  hardships." 

Nevertheless,  she  could  do  little  more  than  maintain  a 
mental  protest  at  his  course,  in  which  he  persevered  unob- 
trusively, yet  unfalteringly.  There  was  no  trace  of  senti- 
ment in  his  manner  toward  her,  nor  the  slightest  conscious 
appeal  for  sympathy.  His  conversation  was  so  intelligent, 
and  at  times  even  brilliant,  that  she  could  not  help  being 
interested,  and  she  observed  that  he  resolutely  chose  sub- 
jects of  an  impersonal  character,  shunning  everything 
relating  to  himself.  She  could  not  maintain  any  feeling 
approaching  contempt,  and  the  best  intrenchment  she  could 
find  was  an  irritated  perplexity.  She  could  not  deny  that 
his  face  was  growing  strong  in  its  manly  beauty.  Although 
far  paler  and  thinner  than  when  she  had  first  seen  it,  a  heavy 
mustache  and  large,  dark,  thoughtful  eyes  relieved  it  from 
the  charge  of  effeminacy.  Every  act,  and  even  his  tones, 
indicated  high  breeding,  and  she  keenly  appreciated  such 
things.  His  reserve  was  a  stimulus  to  thought,  and  his 
isolated  life  was  unique  for  one  in  his  position,  while  the 
fact  that  he  sought  her  home  and  society  with  so  little  to 
encourage  him  was  strong  and  subtle  homage.  More  than 
all,  she  thought  she  recognized  a  trait  in  him  which  rarely 
fails  to  win  respect — an  unfaltering  will.  Whatever  his 
plans  or  purposes  were,  the  impression  grew  stronger  in 
her  mind  that  he  would  not  change  them. 

"But  I  have  a  pride  and  a  will  equal  to  his,"  she  assured 
herself.  "He  can  come  thus  far  and  no  farther.  Papa  thinks 
I  will  yield  eventually  to  his  persistence  and  many  fasci- 
nations. Were  this  possible,  no  one  should  know  it  until 
he  had  proved  himself  the  peer  of  the  bravest  and  best  of 
my  time." 

Winter  had  passed,  and  spring  brought  not  hope  and 
gladness,  but  deepening  dread  as  the  hour  approached  when 


A    FATHER'S    FORETHOUGHT  237 

the  bloody  struggle  would  be  renewed.  Mr.  Lane  had  par- 
ticipated in  more  than  one  cavalry  expedition,  but  had 
received  no  wounds.  Strahan  was  almost  ready  to  return, 
and  had  sent  much  good  material  to  the  thinned  ranks  of 
his  regiment.  His  reward  came  promptly,  for  at  that  late 
day  men  were  most  needed,  and  he  who  furnished  them 
secured  a  leverage  beyond  all  political  influence.  The 
major  in  his  regiment  resigned  from  ill-health,  and  Strahan 
was  promoted  to  the  vacancy  at  once.  He  received  his  com- 
mission before  he  started  for  the  front,  and  he  brought  it  to 
Marian  with  almost  boyish  pride  and  exultation.  He  had 
called  for  Merwyn  on  his  way,  and  insisted  on  having  his 
company.     He  found  the  young  fellow  nothing  loth. 

Merwyn  scarcely  entertained  the  shadow  of  a  hope  of 
anything  more  than  that  time  would  soften  Marian's  feel- 
ings toward  him.  The  war  could  not  last  forever.  Unex- 
pected circumstances  might  arise,  and  a  steadfast  course 
must  win  a  certain  kind  of  respect  At  any  rate  it  was 
not  in  his  nature  to  falter,  especially  when  her  tolerance 
was  parting  with  much  of  its  old  positiveness.  His  pres- 
ence undoubtedly  had  the  sanction  of  her  father  and  mother, 
and  for  the  former  he  was  gaining  an  esteem  and  liking  in- 
dependent of  his  fortunes  with  the  daughter.  Love  is  a 
hardy  plant,  and  thrives  on  meagre  sustenance.  It  was 
evident  that  the  relations  between  Marian  and  Strahan  were 
not  such  as  he  had  supposed  during  the  latter's  illness. 
Her  respect  and  friendship  he  would  have,  if  it  took  a  life- 
time to  acquire  them.  He  would  not  be  balked  in  the  chief 
purpose  of  his  life,  or  retreat  from  the  pledge,  although  it 
was  given  in  the  agony  of  humiliation  and  defeat.  As  long 
as  he  had  reason  to  believe  that  her  hand  and  heart  were 
free,  it  was  not  in  human  nature  to  abandon  all  hope. 

On  this  particular  evening  Mr.  Vosburgh  admitted  the 
young  men,  and  Marian,  hearing  Strahan's  voice,  called 
laughingly  from  the  parlor:  ltYou  are  just  in  time  for  the 
wedding.  I  should  have  been  engaged  to  any  one  except 
you." 


238  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Engaged  to  any  one  except  me?  flow  cruel  is  my 
fate!" 

"Pardon  me,"  began  Merwyn  quickly,  and  taking  his  hat 
again;  "I  shall  repeat  my  call  at  a  time  more  opportune." 
Marian,  who  had  now  appeared,  said,  in  polite  tones: 
"Mr.  Merwyn,  stay  by  all  means.  I  could  not  think  of 
separating  two  such  friends.  Our  waitress  has  no  relatives 
to  whom  she  can  go,  therefore  we  are  giving  her  a  wedding 
from  our  house." 

"Then  I  am  sure  there  is  greater  reason  for  my  leave- 
taking  at  present.  I  am  an  utter  stranger  to  the  bride,  and 
feel  that  my  presence  would  seem  an  intrusion  to  her,  at 
least.  Nothing  at  this  time  should  detract  from  her  happi- 
ness.    Good-evening." 

Marian  felt  the  force  of  his  words,  and  was  also  com- 
pelled to  recognize  his  delicate  regard  for  the  feelings  of 
one  in  humble  station.  She  would  have  permitted  him  to 
depart,  but  Mr.  Yosburgh  interposed  quickly:  "Wait  a  mo- 
ment, Mr.  Merwyn;  I  picked  up  a  rare  book,  downtown, 
relating  to  the  topic  we  were  discussing  the  other  evening. 
Suppose  you  go  up  to  my  library.  I'll  join  you  there,  for 
the  ceremony  will  soon  be  over.  Indeed,  we  are  now  ex- 
pecting the  groom,  his  best  man,  and  the  minister.  It  so 
happens  that  the  happy  pair  are  Protestants,  and  so  we  can 
have  an  informal  wedding." 

"Oh,  stay,  Merwyn,"  said  Strahan.  "It  was  I  who 
brought  you  here,  and  I  shouldn't  feel  that  the  evening- 
was  complete  without  you." 

The  former  looked  doubtfully  at  Marian,  who  added, 
quickly:  "You  cannot  refuse  papa's  invitation,  Mr.  Mer- 
wyn, since  it  removes  the  only  scruple  you  can  have.  It 
is,  perhaps,  natural  that  the  bride  should  wish  to  see  only 
familiar  faces  at  this  time,  and  it  was  thoughtful  of  you 
to  remember  this,  but,  as  papa  says,  the  afiair  will  soon  be 
over." 

"And  then,"  resumed  Strahan,  "I  have  a  little  pie  to 
show  you,  Miss  Marian,  in  which  Merwyn  had  a  big  finger." 


.4    FATHER'S    FORETHOUGHT  239 

"I  thought  that  was  an  affair  between  ourselves,"  said 
Merwyn,  throwing  off  his  overcoat. 

"Oh,  do  not  for  the  world  reveal  any  of  Mr.  Merwyn' s 
secrets!"  cried  the  girl. 

"It  is  no  secret  at  all  to  you,  Miss  Marian,  nor  did  I  ever 
intend  that  it  should  be  one,"  Strahan  explained. 

"Mr.  Merwyn,  you  labor  under  a  disadvantage  in  your 
relations  with  Mr.  Strahan.  He  has  friends,  and  friendship 
is  not  based  on  reticence." 

"Therefore  I  can  have  no  friends,  is  the  inference, 
I  suppose." 

"That  cannot  be  said  while  I  live,"  began  the  young 
officer,  warmly ;  but  here  a  ring  at  the  door  produced  instant 
dispersion.  "I  suppose  I  can  be  present,"  Strahan  whis- 
pered to  Marian.  "Barney  Ghegan  is  an  older  acquaintance 
of  mine  than  of  yours,  and  your  pretty  waitress  has  conde- 
scended to  smile  graciously  on  me  more  than  once,  although 
my  frequent  presence  at  your  door  must  have  taxed  her 
patience." 

"You  have  crossed  her  palm  with  too  much  silver,  I 
fear,  to  make  frowns  possible.  Silver,  indeed!  when  has 
any  been  seen  ?  But  money  in  any  form  is  said  to  buy 
woman's  smiles." 

k' Thank  Heaven  it  doesn't  buy  yours." 

"Hush!     Your  gravity  must  now  be  portentous." 

The  aggressive  Barney,  now  a  burly  policeman,  had 
again  brought  pretty  Sally  Maguire  to  terms,  and  on  this 
evening  received  the  reward  of  his  persistent  wooing.  After 
the  ceremony  and  a  substantial  supper,  which  Mrs.  Yos- 
burgh  graced  with  her  silver,  the  couple  took  their  brief 
wedding  journey  to  their  rooms,  and  Barney  went  on  duty 
in  the  morning,  looking  as  if  all  the  world  were  to  his  mind. 

When  Mr.  Vosburgh  went  up  to  his  library  his  step  was 
at  first  unnoted,  and  he  saw  his  guest  sitting  before  the  fire, 
lost  in  a  gloomy  revery.  When  observed,  he  asked,  a  little 
abruptly:  lkIs  the  matter  to  which  Mr.  Strahan  referred  a 
secret  which  you  wish  kept?" 


240  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Oh,  no!  Not  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  What  I  have 
done  is  a  bagatelle.  I  merely  furnished  a  little  money  for 
recruiting  purposes." 

"It  is  not  a  little  thing  to  send  a  good  man  to  the  front, 
Mr.  Merwyn." 

"Nor  is  it  a  little  thing  not  to  go  one's  self,"  was  the 
bitter  reply.  Then  he  added,  hastily,  "1  am  eager  to  see 
the  book  to  which  you  refer." 

"Pardon  me,  Mr.  Merwyn,  your  words  plainly  reveal 
your  inclination.  Would  you  not  be  happier  if  you  fol- 
lowed it?" 

"I  cannot,  Mr.  Vosburgh,  nor  can  I  explain  further. 
Therefore,  I  must  patiently  submit  to  all  adverse  judg- 
ment." The  words  were  spoken  quietly  and  almost 
wearily. 

"I  suppose  that  your  reasons  are  good  and  satisfactory." 

"They  are  neither  good  nor  satisfactory,"  burst  out  the 
young  man  with  sudden  and  vindictive  impetuosity.  "They 
are  the  curse  of  my  life.  Pardon  me.  I  am  forgetting  my- 
self. I  believe  you  are  friendly  at  least.  Please  let  all  this 
be  as  if  it  were  not."  Then,  as  if  the  possible  import  of  his 
utterance  had  flashed  upon  him,  he  drew  himself  up  and 
said,  coldly,  "If,  under  the  circumstances,  you  feel  I  am 
unworthy  of  trust — " 

"Mr.  Merwyn,"  interrupted  his  host,  "I  am  accustomed 
to  deal  with  men  and  to  be  vigilantly  on  my  guard.  My 
words  led  to  what  has  passed  between  us,  and  it  ends  here 
and  now.  I  would  not  give  you  my  hand  did  I  not  trust 
you.  Come,  here  is  the  book;"  and  he  led  the  way  to  a 
conversation  relating  to  it. 

Merwyn  did  his  best  to  show  a  natural  interest  in  the 
subject,  out  it  was  evident  that  a  tumult  had  been  raised  in 
his  mind  difficult  to  control.  At  last  he  said:  "May  I  take 
the  book  home  ?     I  will  return  it  after  careful  reading. " 

Mr.   Vosburgh  accompanied  him   to   the   drawing-room, 

and  Marian   sportively  introduced   him   to   Major  Strahan. 

For  a  few  minutes  he  was  the  gayest  and  most  brilliam 


A    FATHER'S    FORETHOUGHT  241 

member  of  the  part}',  and  then  he  took  his  leave,  the  young 
girl  remarking,  "Since  you  have  a  book  under  your  arm  we 
cannot  hope  to  detain  you,  for  I  have  observed  that,  with 
your  true  antiquarian,  the  longer  people  have  been  dead 
the  more  interesting  they  become." 

"That  is  perfectly  natural,"  he  replied,  "for  we  can  form 
all  sorts  of  opinions  about  them,  and  they  can  never  prove 
that  we  are  wrong.  M 

"More's  the  pity,  if  we  are  wrong.     Good-night.1' 

"Order  an  extra  chop,  Merwyn,  and  I'll  breakfast  with 
you,''  cried  Strahan.  "I've  only  two  days  more,  you 
know." 

"Well,  papa,"  said  Marian,  joining  him  later  in  the 
library,  "did  you  and  Mr.  Merwyn  settle  the  precise  date 
when  the  Dutch  took  Holland?" 

"  'More's  the  pity,  if  we  are  wrong!'  I  have  been  apply- 
ing your  words  to  the  living  rather  than  to  the  dead." 

"To  Mr.  Merwyn,  you  mean." 

"Yes." 

"Has  he  been  unbosoming  himself  to  you?" 

"Oh,  no,  indeed!" 

"Why  then  has  he  so  awakened  your  sympathy?" 

"I  fear  he  is  facing  more  than  any  of  your  friends." 

"And,  possibly,  fear  is  the  reason." 

"I  do  not  think  so." 

"It  appears  strange  to  me,  papa,  that  you  are  more  ready 
to  trust  than  I  am.  If  there  is  nothing  which  will  not  bear 
the  light,  why  is  he  so  reticent  even  to  his  friend?" 

"I  do  not  know  the  reasons  for  his  course,  nor  am  I  sure 
that  they  would  seem  good  ones  to  me,  but  my  knowledge 
of  human  nature  is  at  fault  if  he  is  not  trustworthy.  I  wish 
we  did  know  what  burdens  his  mind  and  trammels  his 
action.  Since  we  do  not  I  will  admit,  to-night,  that  I  am 
glad  you  feel  toward  him  just  as  you  do." 

"Papa,  you  entertain  doubts  at  last." 

"No,  I  admit  that  something  of  importance  is  unknown 
and  bids  fair  to  remain  so,  but  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  it 

Roe— VI— 11 


242  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

is  something  for  which  he  is  not  to  blame.  Nevertheless, 
I  would  have  you  take  no  steps  in  the  dark,  were  the  whole 
city  his." 

"Oh,  papa!  you  regard  this  matter  much  too  seriously. 
What  steps  had  I  proposed  taking?  How  much  would  it 
cost  me  to  dispense  with  his  society  altogether?" 

"I  do  not  know  how  much  it  might  cost  you  in  the  end. " 
"Well,  you  can  easily  put  the  question  to  the  test." 
"That  I  do  not  propose  to  do.     I  shall  not  act  as  if  what 
may  be  a  great  misfortune  was  a  fault.     Events  will  make 
everything  clear  some  day,  and  if  they  clear  him  he  will 
prove  a  friend  whom  I,  at  least,  shall  value  highly.     He  is 
an  unusual  character,  one  that  interests  me  greatly,  what- 
ever future  developments  may  reveal.     It  would  be  easy  for 
me  to  be  careless  or  arbitrary,  as  I  fear  many  fathers  are  in 
these  matters.     I  take  you  into  my  confidence  and  reveal 
to  you  my  thoughts.     You  say  that  your  reason  has  much 
to  do  with  this  matter.     I  take  you  at  your  word.     Suspend 
judgment  in  regard  to  Merwyn.     Let  him  come  and  go  as 
he  has  done.      He  will  not  presume  on  such  courtesy,  nor 
do  you  in  any  wise  commit  yourself,  even  to  the  friendly 
regard  that  you  have  for  others.     For  your  sake,  Marian, 
for  the  chances  which  the  future  may  bring,   I  should  be 
glad  if  your  heart  and   hand  were  free  when  I   learn  the 
whole  truth  about  this  young  fellow.     I  am  no  match-maker 
in  the  vulgar  acceptation  of  the  world,  but  I,   as  well  as 
you,  have  a  deep  interest  at  stake.     I  have  informed  myself 
in  regard  to  Mr.  Merwyn,  senior.     The  son  appears  to  have 
many   of  the  former's  traits.     If   he  can  never  meet  your 
standard  or  win  your  love  that  ends  the  matter.      But,  in 
spite  of  everything,  he  interests  you  deeply,  as  well  as  my- 
self; and  were  he  taking  the  same  course  as  your  friend  who 
has  just  left,    he  would  stand   a  better  chance  than   that 
friend.      You   see  how  frank  I  am,   and  how   true  to  my 
promise  to  help  you." 

Marian  came  and  leaned  her  arm  on  his  shoulder  as  she 
looked  thoughtfully  into  the  glowing  grate. 


.4    FATHER  S    FORETHOUGHT  243 

At  last  she  said:  ''I  am  grateful  for  your  frankness, 
papa,  and  understand  jour  motives.  Many  girls  would  not 
make  the  sad  blunders  they  do  had  they  such  a  counsellor 
as  you,  one  who  can  be  frank  without  being  blunt  and  un- 
skilful. In  respect  to  these  subjects,  even  with  a  daughter, 
there  must  be  delicacy  as  well  as  precision  of  touch." 

"There  should  also  be  downright  common-sense,  Marian, 
a  recognition  of  facts  and  tendencies,  of  what  is  and  what 
may  be.  On  one  side  a  false  delicacy  often  seals  the  lips  of 
those  most  interested,  until  it  is  too  late  to  speak;  on  the 
other,  rank,  wealth,  and  like  advantages  are  urged  without 
any  delicacy  at  all.  These  have  their  important  place,  but 
the  qualities  which  would  make  your  happiness  sure  are 
intrinsic  to  the  man.  You  know  it  is  in  my  line  to  disen- 
tangle manv  a  snarl  in  human  conduct.  Look  back  on  the 
past  without  prejudice,  if  you  can.  Merwyn  virtually  said 
that  he  would  make  your  standard  of  right  and  wrong  his  — 
that  he  would  measure  things  as  you  estimate  them,  with 
that  difference,  ol  course,  inherent  in  sex.  Is  he  not  trying 
to  do  so?  Is  he  not  acting,  with  one  exception,  as  you 
would  wish  ?  Here  comes  in  the  one  thing  we  don't  under- 
stand. As  you  suggest,  it  may  be  a  fatal  flaw  in  the  marble, 
but  we  don't  know  this.  The  weight  of  evidence,  in  my 
mind,  is  against  it.  His  course  toward  Strahan— one  whom 
he  might  easily  regard  as  a  rival— is  significant.  He  gave 
him  far  more  than  money ;  he  drained  his  own  vitality  in 
seeking  to  restore  his  friend  to  health.  A  coarse,  selfish 
man  always  cuts  a  sorry  figure  in  a  sick-room,  and  shuns 
its  trying  duties  even  in  spite  of  the  strongest  obligations. 
You  remember  Mrs.  Strahan's  tribute  to  Merwyn.  Yet  there 
was  no  parade  of  his  vigils,  nor  did  he  seek  to  make  capital 
out  of  them  with  you.  .Now  I  can  view  all  these  things  dis- 
passionately, as  a  man,  and,  as  1  said  before,  they  give  evi- 
dence ot  an  unusual  character.  Apparently  he  has  chosen 
a  certain  course,  and  he  has  the  will-power  to  carry  it  out. 
Your  heart,  your  life,  are  still  your  own.  All  I  wish  is  that 
you  should  not  bestow  them  so  hastily  as  not  to  secure  the 


244  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

best  possible  guaranties  of  happiness.  This  young  man  has 
crossed  your  path  in  a  peculiar  way.  You  have  immense 
influence  over  him.  So  far  as  he  appears  free  to  act  you 
influence  his  action.  Wait  and  see  what  it  all  means  before 
you  come  to  any  decision  about  him.  Now,"  he  concluded, 
smiling,  "is  my  common-sense  applied  to  these  afiairs  un- 
natural or  unreasonable?" 

"1  certainly  can  wait  with  great  equanimity,"  she  replied, 
laughing,  "and  1  admit  the  reasonableness  of  what  you  say 
as  you  put  it.  JSfor  can  I  any  longer  affect  any  disguises  with 
you.  Mr.  Merwyn  does  interest  me,  and  has  retained  a  hold 
upon  my  thoughts  which  has  annoyed  me.  He  has  angered 
and  perplexed  me.  It  has  seemed  as  if  he  said,  4I  will  give 
you  so  much  for  your  regard;  I  will  not  give,  however, 
what  you  ask.'  As  you  put  it  to-night,  it  is  the  same  as 
if  he  said,  'I  cannot.'  Why  can  he  not?  The  question 
opens  unpleasant  vistas  to  my  mind.  It  will  cost  me  little, 
however,  to  do  as  you  wish,  and  my  curiosity  will  be  on  the 
qui  vive,  if  nothing  more." 


A    CHAWED    WILL  245 


CHAPTER   XXV 

A      CHAINED      WILL 

IN  DUE  TIME  Strahan  departed,  hopeful  and  eager  to 
enter  on  the  duties  pertaining  to  his  higher  rank.  He 
felt  that  Marian's  farewell  had  been  more  than  she  had 
ever  given  him  any  right  to  expect.  Her  manner  had  ever 
been  too  frank  and  friendly  to  awaken  delusive  hopes,  and, 
after  all,  his  regard  for  her  was  characterized  more  by  boy- 
ish adoration  than  by  the  deep  passion  of  manhood.  To  his 
sanguine  spirit  the  excitement  of  camp  and  the  responsi- 
bilities of  his  new  position  formed  attractions  which  took 
all  poignant  regret  from  his  leave-taking,  and  she  was  glad 
to  recognize  this  truth.  She  had  failed  signally  to  carry 
out  her  self-sacrificing  impulse,  when  he  was  so  ill,  to  re- 
ward his  heroism  and  supplement  his  life  with  her  own; 
and  she  was  much  relieved  to  find  that  he  appeared  satis- 
fied with  the  friendship  she  gave,  and  that  there  was  no 
need  of  giving  more.  Indeed,  he  made  it  very  clear  that 
he  was  not  a  patriotic  martyr  in  returning  to  the  front,  and 
his  accounts  of  army  life  had  shown  that  the  semi-humorous 
journal,  kept  by  himself  and  Blauvelt,  was  not  altogether 
a  generous  effort  to  conceal  from  her  a  condition  of  dreary 
duty,  hardship,  and  danger.  Life  in  the  field  has  ever  had 
its  fascinations  to  the  masculine  nature,  and  her  friends 
were  apparently  finding  an  average  enjoyment  equal  to 
her  own.  She  liked  them  all  the  better  for  this,  since, 
to  her  mind,  it  proved  that  the  knightly  impulses  of  the 
past  were  unspent— that,  latent  in  the  breasts  of  those  who 
had  seemed  mere  society  fellows,  dwelt  the  old  virile  forces, 

i 


246  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"I  shall  prove,"  she  assured  herself,  proudly,  "that  since 
true  men  are  the  same  now  as  when  they  almost  lived  in 
armor,  so  ladies  in  their  bowers  have  favors  only  for  those 
to  whom  heroic  action  is  second  nature." 

Blauvelt  had  maintained  the  journal  during  Strahan's 
absence,  doing  more  with  pencil  than  pen,  and  she  had  re- 
warded him  abundantly  by  spicy  little  notes,  full  of  cheer 
and  appreciation.  She  had  no  scruples  in  maintaining  this 
correspondence,  for  in  it  she  had  her  father's  sanction,  and 
the  letters  were  open  to  her  parents'  inspection  when  they 
cared  to  see  them.  Indeed,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vosburgh  en- 
joyed the  journal  almost  as  much  as  Marian  herself. 

After  Strahan's  departure,  life  was  unusually  quiet  in 
the  young  girl's  home.  Her  father  was  busy,  as  usual, 
and  at  times  anxious,  for  he  was  surrounded  by  elements 
hostile  to  the  government.  Aware,  however,  that  the  army 
of  the  Potomac  was  being  largely  re-enforced,  that  General 
Hooker  was  reorganizing  it  with  great  success,  and  that  he 
was  infusing  into  it  his  own  sanguine  spirit,  Mr.  Vosburgh 
grew  hopeful  that,  with  more  genial  skies  and  firmer  roads, 
a  blow  would  be  struck  which  would  intimidate  disloyalty 
at  the  North  as  well  as  in  the  South. 

Marian  shared  in  this  hopefulness,  although  she  dreaded 
to  think  how  much  this  blow  might  cost  her,  as  well  as  tens 
of  thousands  of  other  anxious  hearts. 

At  present  her  mind  was  at  rest  in  regard  to  Mr.  Lane, 
for  he  had  written  that  his  regiment  had  returned  from  an 
expedition  on  which  they  had  encountered  little  else  than 
mud,  sleet,  and  ram.  The  prospects  now  were  that  some 
monotonous  picket-duty  in  a  region  little  exposed  to  danger 
would  be  their  chief  service,  and  that  they  would  be  given 
time  to  rest  and  recruit. 

This  lull  in  the  storm  of  war  was  Merwyn's  opportunity. 
The  inclement  evenings  often  left  Marian  unoccupied,  and 
she  divided  her  time  between  her  mother's  sitting-room 
and  her  father's  library,  where  she  often  found  her  quondam 
suitor,  and  not  infrequently  he  spent  an  hour  or  two  with 


A    CHAINED    WILL  247 

her  in  the  parlor.  In  a  certain  sense  she  had  accepted  her 
father's  suggestions.  She  was  studying  the  enigma  with  a 
lively  curiosity,  as  she  believed,  and  had  to  admit  to  herself 
that  the  puzzle  daily  became  more  interesting.  Merwyn 
pleased  her  fastidious  taste  and  interested  her  mind,  and 
the  possibilities  suggested  by  her  own  and  her  father's 
words  made  him  an  object  of  peculiar  and  personal  interest. 
The  very  uniqueness  of  their  relations  increased  her  dis- 
position to  think  about  him.  It  might  be  impossible  that 
he  should  ever  become  even  her  friend;  he  might  become 
her  husband.  Her  father's  remark,  "I  don't  know  how  much 
it  might  cost  you  to  dismiss  him  finally,"  had  led  to  many 
questionings.  Other  young  men  she  substantially  under- 
stood. She  could  gauge  their  value,  influence,  and  attrac- 
tiveness almost  at  once;  but  what  possibilities  lurked  in 
this  reticent  man  who  came  so  near  her  ideal,  yet  failed  at 
a  vital  point  ?  The  wish,  the  effort  to  understand  him,  gave 
an  increasing  zest  to  their  interviews.  He  had  asked  her  to 
be  his  wife.  She  had  understood  him  then,  and  had  replied 
as  she  would  again  if  he  should  approach  her  in  a  similar 
spirit.  Again,  at  any  hour  he  would  ask  her  hand  if  she 
gave  him  sufficient  encouragement,  and  she  knew  it.  He 
would  be  humility  itself  in  suing  for  the  boon,  and  she 
knew  this  also,  yet  she  did  not  understand  him  at  all.  His 
secret  fascinated  her,  yet  she  feared  it.  It  must  be  either 
some  fatal  flaw  in  his  character,  or  else  a  powerful  restraint 
imposed  from  without.  If  it  was  the  former  she  would 
shrink  from  him  at  once;  if  the  latter,  it  would  indeed  be 
a  triumph,  a  proof  of  her  power,  to  so  influence  him  that 
he  would  make  her  the  first  consideration  in  the  world. 

Every  day,  however,  increased  her  determination  to  exert 
this  influence  only  by  firmly  maintaining  her  position.  If 
he  wished  her  friendship  and  an  equal  chance  with  others 
for  more,  he  must  prove  himself  the  equal  of  others  in  all 
respects.  By  no  words  would  she  ever  now  hint  that  he 
should  take  their  course;  but  she  allowed  herself  to  en- 
hance his  motives  by  permitting  him  to  see  her  often,  and 


248  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

by  an  alluring  jet  elusive  courtesy,  of  which  she  was  a 
perfect  mistress. 

This  period  was  one  of  mingled  pain  and  pleasure  to 
Merwyn.  Eemembering  his  interview  with  Mr.  Vosburgh, 
he  felt  that  he  had  been  treated  with  a  degree  of  confidence 
that  was  even  generous.  But  he  knew  that  from  Mr.  Yos- 
burgh  he  did  not  receive  full  trust — that  there  were  certain 
topics  which  each  touched  upon  with  restraint.  Even  with 
the  father  he  was  made  to  feel  that  he  had  reached  the  limit 
of  their  friendly  relations.  They  could  advance  no  further 
unless  the  barrier  of  his  reserve  was  broken  down. 

He  believed  that  he  was  dissipating  the  prejudices  of  the 
daughter;  that  she  was  ceasing  to  dislike  him  personally. 
He  exerted  every  faculty  of  his  mind  to  interest  her;  he 
studied  her  tastes  and  views  with  careful  analysis,  that 
he  might  speak  to  her  intelligently  and  acceptably.  The 
kindling  light  in  her  eyes,  and  her  animated  tones,  often 
proved  that  he  succeeded.  Was  it  the  theme  wholly  that 
interested  her  ?  or  was  the  speaker  also  gaining  some  place 
in  her  thoughts  ?  He  never  could  be  quite  certain  as  to 
these  points,  and  yet  the  impression  was  growing  stronger 
that  if  he  came  some  day  and  said,  quietly,  ''Good- by,  Miss 
Yosburgh,  I  am  going  to  face  every  danger  which  any  man 
dare  meet,"  she  would  give  him  both  hands  in  friendly 
warmth,  and  that  there  would  be  an  expression  on  her  face 
which  had  never  been  turned  toward  him. 

A  stormy  day,  not  far  from  the  middle  of  April,  ended 
in  a  stormier  evening.  Marian  had  not  been  able  to  go  out, 
and  had  suffered  a  little  from  ennui.  Her  mother  had  a 
headache,  Mr.  Yosburgh  had  gone  to  keep  an  appointment, 
and  the  evening  promised  to  be  an  interminable  one  to  the 
young  girl.  She  unconsciously  wished  that  Merwyn  would 
come,  and  half-smilingly  wondered  whether  he  would  brave 
the  storm  to  see  her. 

She  was  not  kept  long  in  suspense,  for  he  soon  appeared 
with  a  book  which  he  wished  to  return,  he  said. 

"Papa  is  out,"  Marian  began,  affably,  "and  you  will  have 


A    CHAINED    WILL  249 

to  be  content  with  seeing  me.  You  have  a  morbidly  acute 
conscience,  Mr.  Merwyn,  to  return  a  book  on  a  night  like 
this." 

"My  conscience  certainly  is  very  troublesome." 

Almost  before  she  was  aware  of  it  the  trite  saying  slipped 
out,  "Honest  confession  is  good  for  the  soul." 

"To  some  souls  it  is  denied,  Miss  Vosburgh;"  and  there 
was  a  trace  of  bitterness  in  his  tones.  Then,  with  resolute 
promptness,  he  resumed  their  usual  impersonal  conver- 
sation. 

While  they  talked,  the  desire  to  penetrate  his  secret  grew 
strong  upon  the  young  girl.  It  was  almost  certain  that  they 
would  not  be  interrupted,  and  this  knowledge  led  her  to 
yield  to  her  mood.  She  felt  a  strange  relenting  toward  him. 
A  woman  to  her  finger-tips,  she  could  not  constantly  face 
this  embodied  mystery  without  an  increasing  desire  to  solve 
it.  Cold  curiosity,  however,  was  not  the  chief  inspiration 
of  her  impulse.  The  youth  who  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  glowing  grate  had  grown  old  by  months  as  if  they  were 
years.  His  secret  was  evidently  not  only  a  restraint,  but  a 
wearing  burden.  By  leading  her  companion  to  reveal  so 
much  of  his  trouble  as  would  give  opportunity  for  her 
womanly  ministry,  might  she  not,  in  a  degree  yet  unequalled, 
carry  out  her  scheme  of  life  to  make  the  "most  and  best  of 
those  over  whom  she  had  influence  ?" 

"Many  brood  over  an  infirmity,  a  fault,  or  an  obligation 
till  they  grow  morbid,"  she  thought.  "I  might  not  be  able 
to  show  him  what  was  best  and  right,  but  papa  could  if  we 
only  knew." 

Therefore  her  words  and  tones  were  kinder  than  usual, 
and  she  made  slight  and  delicate  references  to  herself,  that 
he  might  be  led  to  speak  of  himself.  At  last  she  hit  upon 
domestic  affairs  as  a  safe,  natural  ground  of  approach,  and 
gave  a  humorous  account  of  some  of  her  recent  efforts  to 
learn  the  mysteries  of  housekeeping,  and  she  did  not  fail 
to  observe  his  wistful  and  deeply-interested  expression. 

Suddenly,  as  if  it  were  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 


250  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

world,  she  remarked:  "I  do   not  see  how  you   manage  to 
keep  house  in  that  great,  empty  mansion  of  yours." 

"You  know,  then,  where  I  live?" 

"Oh,  yes.  I  saw  you  descend  the  steps  of  a  house  on 
Madison  Avenue  one  morning  last  fall,  and  supposed  it 
was  your  home." 

"You  were  undoubtedly  right.  I  can  tell  you  just  how 
I  manage,  or  rather,  how  everything  is  managed,  for  I  have 
little  to  do  with  the  matter.  An  old  family  servant  looks 
after  everything  and  provides  me  with  my  meals.  She  makes 
out  my  daily  menu  according  to  her  'own  will,'  which  is 
'sweet'  if  not  crossed.'1 

''Indeed!  Are  you  so  indifferent?  I  thought  men  gave 
much  attention  to  their  dinners." 

"I  do  to  mine,  after  it  is  provided.  Were  I  fastidious, 
old  Cynthy  would  give  me  no  cause  for  complaint.  Then 
I  have  a  man  who  looks  after  the  fires  and  the  horses,  etc. 
I  am  too  good  a  republican  to  keep  a  valet.  So  you  see 
that  my  domestic  arrangements  are  simple  in  the  extreme." 

"And  do  those  two  people  constitute  your  whole  house- 
hold?" she  asked,  wondering  at  a  frankness  which  seemed 
complete. 

"Yes.  The  ghosts  and  I  have  the  house  practically  to 
ourselves  most  of  the  time." 

''Are  there  ghosts?"  she  asked,  laughing,  but  with 
cheeks  that  began  to   burn  in  her  kindling  interest. 

"There  are  ghosts  in  every  house  where  people  have 
lived  and  died;  that  is,  if  you  knew  and  cared  for  the 
people.     My  father  is  with  me  very  often!" 

"Mr.  Merwyn,  I  don't  understand  you!"  she  exclaimed, 
without  trying  to  disguise  her  astonishment.  The  conver- 
sation was  so  utterly  unlike  anything  that  had  occurred  be- 
tween them  before  that  she  wondered  whither  it  was  lead- 
ing.    "I  fear  you  are  growing  morbid,"  she  added. 

"I  hope  not.  Nor  will  you  think  so  when  I  explain. 
Of  course  nothing  like  gross  superstition  is  in  my  mind.  I 
remember  my  father  very  well,  and  have  heard  much  about 


.4    CHAINED    WILL  251 

him  since  he  died.  Therefore  he  has  become  to  me  a  dis- 
tinct presence  which  I  can  summon  at  will.  The  same  is 
true  of  others  with  whom  the  apartments  are  associated.  If 
I  wish  I  can  summon  them." 

"I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  which  is  the  greater,  your  will 
or  your  imagination." 

"My  imagination  is  the  greater." 

"It  must  be  great,  indeed,"  she  said,  smiling  alluringly, 
"for  I  never  knew  of  one  who  seemed  more  untrammelled 
in  circumstances  than  you  are,  or  more  under  the  dominion 
of  his  own  will." 

"Untrammelled!"  he  repeated,  in  a  low,  almost  desper- 
ate tone. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  warmly — "free  to  carry  out  every 
generous  and  noble  impulse  of  manhood.  I  tell  you 
frankly  that  you  have  led  me  to  believe  that  you  have 
such  impulses." 

His  face  became  ashen  in  its  hue,  and  he  trembled  vis- 
ibly. He  seemed  about  to  speak  some  words  as  if  they 
were  wrung  from  him,  then  he  became  almost  rigid  in  his 
self-control  as  he  said,  "There  are  limitations  of  which  you 
cannot  dream' ' ;  and  he  introduced  a  topic  wholly  remote 
from  himself. 

A  chill  benumbed  her  very  heart,  and  she  scarcely 
sought  to  prevent  it  from  tingeing  her  words  and  manner. 
A  few  moments  later  the  postman  left  a  letter.  She  saw 
Lane's  handwriting  and  said,  "Will  you  pardon  me  a  mo- 
ment, that  I  may  learn  that  my  friend  is  well  ?" 

Glancing  at  the  opening  words,  her  eyes  flashed  with 
excitement  as  she  exclaimed:  "The  campaign  has  opened! 
They  are  on  the  march  this  stormy  night. ' ' 

"May  I  ask  if  your  letter  is  from  Strahan?"  Merwyn 
faltered. 

"It  is  not  from  Mr.  Strahan,"  she  replied,  quietly. 

He  arose  and  stood  before  her  as  erect  and  cold  as  her- 
self. "Will  you  kindly  give  Mr.  Vosburgh  that  book?"  he 
said. 


252  AX    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Certainly." 

"Will  you  also  please  say  that  I  shall  probably  go  to 
my  country  place  in  a  day  or  two,  and  therefore  may  not 
see  him  again  very  soon." 

She  was  both  disappointed  and  angry,  for  she  had  meant 
kindly  by  him.  The  very  consciousness  that  she  had  un- 
bent so  greatly,  and  had  made  what  appeared  to  her  pride 
an  unwonted  advance,  incensed  her,  and  she  replied,  in  cold 
irony:  "I  will  give  papa  your  message.  It  will  seem  most 
natural  to  him,  now  that  spring  has  come,  that  you  should 
vary  your  mercantile  with  agricultural  pursuits." 

He  appeared  stung  to  the  very  soul  by  her  words,  and 
his  hands  clinched  in  his  desperate  effort  to  restrain  him- 
self. His  white  lips  moved  as  he  looked  at  her  from  eyes 
full  of  the  agony  of  a  wounded  spirit.  Suddenly  his  tense 
form  became  limp,  and,  with  a  slight  despairing  gesture,  he 
said,  wearily:  "It  is  of  no  use.     Good- by. " 


MARIAN'S    INTERPRETATION    OF   MERWYN  253 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

MARIAN'S   INTERPRETATION    OF    MERWYN 

SHALLOW  natures,  like  shallow  waters,  are  easily  agi- 
tated, and  outward  manifestations  are  in  proportion 
to  the  shallowness.  Superficial  observers  are  chiefly 
impressed  by  visible  emotion  and  tumult. 

With  all  her  faults,  Marian  had  inherited  from  her  father 
a  strong  nature.  Her  intuitions  had  become  womanly  and 
keen,  and  Merwyn's  dumb  agony  affected  her  more  deeply 
than  a  torrent  of  impetuous  words  or  any  outward  evidence 
of  distress.  She  went  back  to  her  chair  and  shed  bitter 
tears;  she  scarcely  knew  why,  until  her  father's  voice 
aroused  her  by  saying,  "Why,  Marian  dear,  what  is  the 
matter?" 

"Oh,  I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  she  said.  "I  have 
caused  so  much  suffering  that  I  feel  as  if  I  had  committed 
a  crime;"  and  she  gave  an  account  of  the  recent  inter- 
view. 

"Let  me  reassure  you,"  said  her  father,  gravely.  "You 
did  mean  kindly  by  Merwyn,  and  you  gave  him,  without 
being  unwomanly,  the  best  chance  he  could  possibly  have 
to  throw  off  the  incubus  that  is  burdening  his  life.  If,  with 
the  opportunity  he  had  to-night,  and  under  the  influence  of 
his  love,  he  did  not  speak,  his  secret  is  one  of  which  he  can- 
not speak.  At  least,  I  fear  it  is  one  of  which  he  dares  not 
speak  to  you,  lest  it  should  be  fatal  to  him  and  all  his  hopes. 
I  cannot  even  guess  what  it  is,  but  at  all  events  it  is  of  a  se- 
rious nature,  too  grave  to  be  regarded  any  longer  as  secon- 


254  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

dary  in  our  estimate  of  Mr.  Merwyn's  character.    The  shadow 
of  this  mystery  must  not  fall  on  you,  and  I  am  glad  he  is 
going  away.     I  hoped  that  your  greater  kindness  and  mine 
might  lead  him   to  reveal  his  trouble,  that  we  could  help 
him,  and  that  a  character  in  many  respects  so  unique  and 
strong  might  be  cleared  of  its  shadows.     In  this  case  we 
might  not  only  have  rendered  a  fellow-being  a  great  ser- 
vice, but  also  have  secured  a  friend  capable  of  adding  much 
to  our  happiness.     This  mystery,  however,  proves  so  deep- 
rooted  and  inscrutable  that  I  shall  be  glad  to  withdraw  you 
from  his  influence  until  time  and  circumstance  make  all 
plain,  if  they  ever  can.     These  old  families  often  have  dark 
secrets,  and  this  young  man,  in  attaining  his  majority  and 
property,  has  evidently  become  the  possessor  of  one  of  them. 
In  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  do  well  it  is  having  a  sinister  in- 
fluence over  his  life,  and  this  influence  must  not  extend  to 
yours.     The  mere  fact  that  he  does  not  take  an  active  part 
in  the  war"  is  very  subordinate  in  itself.     Thousands  who 
might  do  this  as  well  as  he  are  very  well  content  to  stay  at 
home.     The  true  aspect  of  the  affair  is  this:   A  chain  of  cir- 
cumstances, unforeseen,  and  uncaused  by  any  premeditated 
effort  on  our  part,  has  presented  to  his  mind  the  most  pow- 
erful motives  to  take  a  natural  part  in  the  conflict.     It  has 
gradually  become  evident  that  the  secret  of  his  restraint  is  a 
mystery  that  affects  his  whole  being.     Therefore,  whether  it 
be  infirmity,  fault,  or  misfortune,  he  has  no  right  to  impose 
it  on  others,  since  it  seems  to  be  beyond  remedy.     Do  you 
not  agree  with  me  ?' ' 

4tI  could  not  do  otherwise,  papa.  Yet,  remembering 
how  he  looked  to-night,  I  cannot  help  being  sorry  for  him, 
even  though  my  mind  inclines  to  the  belief  that  constitu- 
tional timidity  restrains  him.  I  never  saw  a  man  tremble 
so,  and  he  turned  white  to  his  very  lips.  Papa,  have  you 
read  'The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth1  ?" 
"Yes." 

"Don't  you  remember  Maclan,  the  young  chief  of  Clan 
Quhele  ?     This  character  always  made  a  deep  impression  on 


MARIAN'S    INTERPRETATION    OF   MERWYN         255 

me,  awakening  at  the  same  time  pity  and  the  strongest  re- 
pulsion. I  could  never  understand  him.  He  was  high- 
born, and  lived  at  an  age  when  courage  was  the  common- 
est of  traits,  while  its  absence  was  worse  than  crime.  For 
the  times  he  was  endowed  with  every  good  quality  except 
the  power  to  face  danger.  This  from  the  very  constitution 
of  his  being  he  could  not  do,  and  he,  beyond  all  others,  un- 
derstood his  infirmity,  suffering  often  almost  mortal  agony 
in  view  of  it.  For  some  reason  I  have  been  led  to  reread 
this  story,  and,  in  spite  of  myself,  that  wretched  young 
Scottish  chieftain  has  become  associated  in  my  mind  with 
Willard  Merwyn.  He  said  to-night  that  his  imagination 
was  stronger  than  his  will.  I  can  believe  it  from  his  words. 
His  dead  father  and  others  have  become  distinct  presences  to 
him.  In  the  same  way  he  calls  up  before  his  fancy  the  hor- 
rors of  a  battlefield,  and  he  finds  that  he  has  not  the  power 
to  face  them,  that  he  cannot  do  it,  no  matter  what  the  mo- 
tives may  be.  He  feels  that  he  would  be  simply  over- 
whelmed with  horror  and  faint-heartedness,  and  he  is  too 
prudent  to  risk  the  shame  of  exposure." 

"Well,"  said  her  father,  sighing,  as  if  he  were  giving 
up  a  pleasing  dream,  "you  have  thought  out  an  ingenious 
theory  which,  if  true,  explains  Merwyn's  course,  perhaps. 
A  woman's  intuitions  are  subtle,  and  often  true,  but  some- 
how it  does  not  satisfy  me,  even  though  I  can  recall  some 
things  which  give  color  to  your  view.  Still,  whatever  be 
the  explanation,  all  must  be  explained  before  we  can  give 
him  more  than  ordinary  courtesy. " 

It  soon  became  evident  that  Merwyn  had  gone  to  his 
country  place,  for  his  visits  ceased.  The  more  Marian 
thought  about  him — and  she  did  think  a  great  deal — the 
more  she  was  inclined  to  believe  that  her  theory  explained 
everything.  His  very  words,  "You  think  me  a  coward," 
became  a  proof,  in  her  mind,  that  he  was  morbidly  sen- 
sitive on  this  point,  and  ever  conscious  of  his  infirmity. 
He  was  too  ready  to  resent  a  fancied  imputation  on  his 
courage. 


256  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

She  strove  to  dismiss  him  from  her  thoughts,  but  with 
only  partial  success.  He  gave  her  the  sense  of  being  baffled, 
defeated.  What  could  be  more  natural  than  that  a  high- 
spirited  young  man  should  enter  the  army  of  his  own  free 
will  ?  fie  had  not  entered  it  even  with  her  favor,  possibly 
her  love,  as  a  motive.  Yet  he  sought  her  favor  as  if  it  were 
the  chief  consideration  of  existence.  With  her  theory,  and 
her  ideal  of  manhood,  he  was  but  the  mocking  shadow  of  a 
man,  but  so  real,  so  nearly  perfect,  that  she  constantly 
chafed  at  the  defect.  Even  her  father  had  been  deeply 
impressed  by  the  rare  promise  of  his  young  life— a  promise 
which  she  now  believed  could  never  be  kept,  although  few 
might  ever  know  it. 

"I  must  be  right  in  my  view,"  she  said.  liHe  proves 
his  loyalty  by  an  unflagging  interest  in  our  arms,  by  the 
gift  of  thousands.  He  is  here,  his  own  master.  He  would 
not  shun  danger  for  the  sake  of  his  cold-hearted  mother, 
from  whom  he  seems  almost  estranged.  His  sisters  are  well 
provided  for,  and  do  not  need  his  care.  He  does  not  live 
for  the  sake  of  pleasure,  like  many  other  young  men.  Mer- 
ciful Heaven!  I  blush  even  to  think  the  words,  much  more 
to  speak  them.  Why  does  he  not  go,  unless  his  fear  is 
greater  than  his  love  for  me  ?  why  is  he  not  with  Lane  and 
Strahan,  unless  he  has  a  constitutional  dread  that  paralyzes 
him  ?  He  is  the  Scottish  chieftain,  Maclan,  over  again. 
All  I  can  do  now  is  to  pity  him  as  one  to  whom  Nature 
has  been  exceedingly  cruel,  for  every  fibre  in  my  being 
shrinks  from  such  a  man.1' 

And  so  he  came  to  dwell  in  her  mind  as  one  crippled, 
from  birth,  in  his  very  soul. 

Meanwhile  events  took  place  which  soon  absorbed  her 
attention.  Lane's  letter  announcing  the  opening  of  the 
campaign  proved  a  false  alarm,  although,  from  a  subse- 
quent letter,  she  learned  that  he  had  had  experiences  not 
trifling  in  their  nature.  On  the  rainy  night,  early  in  April, 
that  would  ever  be  memorable  to  her,  she  had  said  to  Mer- 
wyn,  liThe  army  is  on  the  march." 


MARIAN'S    INTERPRETATION    OF    MERWYN  257 

This  was  true  of  the  cavalry  corps,  and  part  of  it  even 
crossed  the  upper  waters  of  the  Rappahannock;  but  the 
same  storm  which  dashed  the  thick  drops  against  her  win- 
dows also  filled  the  river  to  overflowing,  and  the  brave 
troopers,  recalled,  had  to  swim  their  horses  in  returning. 
Lane  was  among  these,  and  his  humorous  account  of  the 
affair  was  signed,  "Your  loyal  amphibian!" 

A  young  girl  of  Marian's  temperament  is  a  natural  hero- 
worshipper,  and  he  was  becoming  her  hero.  Circumstances 
soon  occurred  which  gave  him  a  sure  place  in  this  char- 
acter. 

By  the. last  of  April,  not  only  the  cavalry,  but  the  whole 
army,  moved,  the  infantry  taking  position  on  the  fatal  field 
of  Chancellorsville.  Then  came  the  bloody  battle,  with  its 
unspeakable  horrors  and  defeat.  The  icy  Rappahannock 
proved  the  river  of  death  to  thousands  and  thousands  of 
brave  men. 

Early  in  May  the  Union  army,  baffled,  depleted,  and  dis- 
couraged, was  again  in  its  old  quarters  where  it  had  spent 
the  winter.  Apparently  the  great  forward  movement  had 
been  a  failure,  but  it  was  the  cause  of  a  loss  to  the  Confed- 
erate cause  from  which  it  never  recovered — that  of  ''Stone- 
wall" Jackson.  So  transcendent  were  this  man's  boldness 
and  ability  in  leading  men  that  his  death  was  almost  equiva- 
lent to  the  annihilation  of  a  rebel  army.  He  was  a  typical 
character,  the  embodiment  of  the  genius,  the  dash,  the  ear- 
nest, pure,  but  mistaken  patriotism  of  the  South.  No  man 
at  the  North  more  surely  believed  he  was  right  than  Gen- 
eral Jackson,  no  man  more  reverently  asked  God's  blessing 
on  efforts  heroic  in  the  highest  degree.  He  represented  the 
sincere  but  misguided  spirit  which  made  every  sacrifice  pos- 
sible to  a  brave  people,  and  his  class  should  ever  be  distin- 
guished from  the  early  conspirators  who  were  actuated 
chiefly  by  ambition  and  selfishness. 

His  death  also  was  typical,  for  he  was  wounded  by  a 
volley  fired,  through  misapprehension,  by  his  own  men. 
The  time  will  come  when  North  and  South  will  honor  the 


258  AN  ^ORIGINAL    BELLE 

memory  of  Thomas  J.  Jackson,  while,  at  the  same  time,  rec- 
ognizing that  his  stout  heart,  active  brain,  and  fiery  zeal 
were  among  the  chief  obstructions  to  the  united  and  sublime 
destiny  of  America.  The  man's  errors  were  due  to  causes 
over  which  he  had  little  control;  his  noble  character  was 
due  to  himself  and  his  faith  in  God. 

Many  days  passed  before  Marian  heard  from  Lane,  and 
she  then  learned  that  the  raid  in  which  he  had  participated 
had  brought  him  within  two  miles  of  Richmond,  and  that 
he  had  passed  safely  through  great  dangers  and  hardships, 
but  that  the  worst  which  he  could  say  of  himself  was 
that  he  was  "prone  to  go  to  sleep,  even  while  writing  to 
her." 

The  tidings  from  her  other  friends  were  equally  reassur- 
ing. Their  regiment  had  lost  heavily,  and  Blauvelt  had 
been  made  a  captain  almost  in  spite  of  himself,  while 
Strahan  was  acting  as  lieutenant-colonel,  since  the  officer 
holding  that  rank  had  been  wounded.  There  was  a  dash 
of  sadness  and  tragedy  in  the  journal  which  the  two  young 
men  forwarded  to  her  after  they  had  been  a  few  days  in 
their  old  camp  at  Falmouth,  but  Strahan's  indomitable 
humor  triumphed,  and  their  crude  record  ended  in  a  droll 
sketch  of  a  plucked  cock  trying  to  crow.  She  wrote  letters 
so  full  of  sympathy  and  admiration  of  their  spirit  that  three 
soldiers  of  the  army  of  the  Potomac  soon  recovered  their 

morale. 

The  month  of  May  was  passing  in  mocking  beauty  to 
those  whose  hopes  and  happiness  were  bound  up  in  the 
success  of  the  Union  armies.  Not  only  had  deadly  war 
depleted  Hooker's  grand  army,  but  the  expiration  of  en- 
listments would  take  away  nearly  thirty  thousand  more. 
Mr.  Vosburgh  was  aware  of  this,  and  he  also  found  the 
disloyal  elements  by  which  he  was  surrounded  passing  into 
every  form  of  hostile  activity  possible  within  the  bounds  of 
safety.  Men  were  beginning  to  talk  of  peace,  at  any  cost, 
openly,  and  he  knew  that  the  Southern  leaders  were  hoping 
for  the  beginning  at  any  time  of  a  counter-revolution  at  the 


MARIAN'S    INTERPRETATION    OF   MERWYN  259 

North.  The  city  was  full  of  threatening  rumors,  intrigues, 
and  smouldering  rebellion. 

Marian  saw  her  father  overwhelmed  with  labors  and 
anxieties,  and  letters  from  her  friends  reflected  the  bitter- 
ness then  felt  by  the  army  because  the  North  appeared  so 
half-hearted. 

klMr.  Merwyn,  meanwhile,"  she  thought,  "is  interesting 
himself  in  landscape-gardening.  If  he  has  one  spark  of 
manhood  or  courage  he  will  show  it  now." 

The  object  of  this  reproach  was  living  almost  the  life 
of  a  hermit  at  his  country  place,  rinding  no  better  resource, 
in  his  desperate  unrest  and  trouble,  than  long  mountain 
rambles,  which  brought  physical  exhaustion  and  sleep. 

He  had  not  misunderstood  Marian's  final  words  and 
manner.  Delicately,  yet  clearly,  she  had  indicated  the 
steps  he  must  take  to  vindicate  his  character  and  win  her 
friendship.  He  felt  that  he  had  become  pale,  that  he 
had  trembled  in  her  presence.  What  but  cowardice  could 
explain  his  manner  and  account  for  his  inability  to  confirm 
the  good  impression  he  had  made  by  following  the  example 
of  her  other  friends  ?  From  both  his  parents  he  had  in- 
herited a  nature  sensitive  to  the  last  degree  to  any  imputa- 
tion of  this  kind.  To  receive  it  from  the  girl  he  loved  was 
a  hundred-fold  more  bitter  than  death,  yet  he  was  bound 
by  fetters  which,  though  unseen  by  all,  were  eating  into  his 
very  soul.  The  proud  Mrs.  Merwyn  was  a  slave-holder 
herself,  and  the  daughter  of  a  long  line  of  slave-owners; 
but  never  had  a  bondman  been  so  chained  and  crushed 
as  was  her  son.  For  weeks  he  felt  that  he  could  not  mingle 
with  other  men,  much  less  meet  the  girl  to  whom  manly 
courage  was  the  corner-stone  of  character. 

One  evening  in  the  latter  part  of  May,  as  Mr.  Vosburgh 
and  his  family  were  sitting  down  to  dinner,  Barney  Ghegan, 
the  policeman,  appeared  at  their  door  with  a  decent-looking, 
elderly  colored  woman  and  her  lame  son.  They  were  refu- 
gees, or  "contrabands,"  as  they  were  then  called,  from  the 
South,  and  they  bore  a  letter  from  Captain  Lane. 


260  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

It  was  a  scrap  of  paper  with  the  following  lines  pencilled 
upon  it: 


"Mr.  Vosburgh,  No, St.  :  I  have  only  time  for  a  line. 

Borden  will  tell  you  her  story  and  that  of  her  son.  Their  action  and  other  cir- 
cumstances have  enlisted  my  interest.  Provide  them  employment,  if  con- 
venient. At  any  rate,  please  see  that  they  want  nothing,  and  draw  on  me. 
Sincere  regard  to  you  ail. — In  haste, 

"Lane,  Captain. U.  S.  Cav," 


"DE  HEAD  L1NRUM  MAN   WAS  CAP'N  LANE"       261 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


"DE   HEAD   LINKUM    MAN   WAS   CAP'N   LANE 


IT  can  be  well  understood  that  the  two  dusky  strangers, 
recommended  by  words  from  Lane,  were  at  once  in- 
vested with  peculiar  interest  to  Marian.  Many  months 
had  elapsed  since  she  had  seen  him,  but  all  that  he  had 
written  tended  to  kindle  her  imagination.  This  had  been 
the  more  true  because  he  was  so  modest  in  his  accounts  of 
the  service  in  which  he  had  participated.  She  had  learned 
what  cavalry  campaigning  meant,  and  read  more  meaning 
between  the  lines  than  the  lines  themselves  conveyed.  He 
was  becoming  her  ideal  knight,  on  whom  no  shadow  rested. 
From  first  to  last  his  course  had  been  as  open  as  the  day, 
nor  had  he,  in  any  respect,  failed  to  reach  the  highest 
standard  developed  by  those  days  of  heroic  action. 

If  this  were  true  when  ''Mammy  Borden"  and  her  son 
appeared,  the  reader  can  easily  believe  that,  when  they  com- 
pleted  their  story,  Captain  Lane  was  her  Bayard  sa?is  peur 
et  sans  reproche. 

Barney  explained  that  they  had  met  him  in  the  street 
and  asked  for  Mr.  Vosburgh's  residence;  as  it  was  nearly 
time  for  him  to  be  relieved  of  duty  he  told  them  that  in 
a  few  moments  he  could  guide  them  to  their  destination. 
Marian's  thanks  rewarded  him  abundantly,  and  Mrs.  Vos- 
burgh  told  him  that  if  he  would  go  to  the  kitchen  he  should 
have  a  cup  of  coffee  and  something  nice  to  take  home  to  his 
wife.  They  both  remained  prot£g6s  of  the  Vosburghs,  and 
received  frequent  tokens  of  good- will  and  friendly  regard. 
While  these  were  in  the  main  disinterested,  Mr.  Vosburgh 


262  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

felt  that  in  the  possibilities  of  the  future  it  might  be  to  his 
advantage  to  have  some  men  in  the  police  force  wholly 
devoted  to  his  interests. 

The  two  colored  refugees  were  evidently  hungry  and 
weary,  and,  eager  as  Marian  was  to  learn  more  of  her  friend 
when  informed  that  he  had  been  wounded,  she  tried  to  con- 
tent herself  with  the  fact  that  he  was  doing  well,  until  the 
mother  and  son  had  rested  a  little  and  had  been  refreshed 
by  an  abundant  meal.  Then  they  were  summoned  to  the 
sitting-room,  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vosburgh  shared  in  Marian's 
deep  solicitude  and  interest. 

It  was  evident  that  their  humble  guests,  who  took  seats 
deferentially  near  the  door,  had  been  house-servants  and 
not  coarse  plantation  slaves,  and  in  answer  to  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh's  questions  they  spoke  in  a  better  vernacular  than 
many  of  their  station  could  employ. 

"Yes,  mass'r,"  the  woman  began,  "we  seed  Mass'r  Lane 
— may  de  Lord  bress  'im — and  he  was  a  doin'  well  when  we 
lef.  He's  a  true  Linkum  man,  an'  if  all  was  like  him  de 
"wah  would  soon  be  ended  an'  de  collud  people  free.  What's 
mo',  de  white  people  of  de  Souf  wouldn't  be  so  bitter  as  dey 
now  is." 

"Tell  us  your  story,  mammy,"  said  Marian,  impatiently; 
"tell  us  everything  you  know  about  Captain  Lane." 

A  ray  of  intelligence  lighted  up  the  woman's  sombre 
eyes,  for  she  believed  she  understood  Marian's  interest,  and 
at  once  determined  that  Lane's  action  should  lose  no  embel- 
lishment which  she  could  honestly  give. 

"Well,  missy,  it  was  dis  away,"  she  said.  "My  mass'r 
and  his  sons  was  away  in  de  wah.  He  own  a  big  planta- 
tion an'  a  great  many  slabes.  My  son,  Zeb  dar,  an'  I  was 
kep'  in  de  house.  I  waited  on  de  missus  an'  de  young 
ladies,  an'  Zeb  was  kep'  in  de  house  too,  'kase  he  was  lame 
and  'kase  dey  could  trus'  him  wid  eberyting  an'  dey  knew  it. 

"Well,  up  to  de  time  Cap'n  Lane  come  we  hadn't  seen 
any  ob  de  Linkum  men,  but  we'd  heared  ob  de  prockerma- 
tion  an'  know'd  we  was  free,  far  as  Mass'r  Linkum  could  do 


"DE  HEAD  LINKUM  MAN   WAS  CAP'N  LANE"       263 

it,  an'  Zeb  was  jus'  crazy  to  git  away  so  he  could  say,  Tse 
my  own  mass'r. '  I  didn't  feel  dat  away,  'kase  I  was  brought 
up  wid  my  missus,  an'  de  young  ladies  was  a' most  like  my 
own  chillen,  an'  we  didn't  try  to  get  away  like  some  ob  de 
plantation  nan's  do. 

•'Well,  one  ebenin',  short  time  ago,  a  big  lot  ob  our 
sogers  come  marchin'  to  our  house— dey  was  hoss  sogers — 
an'  de  missus  an'  de  young  ladies  knew  some  of  de  ossifers, 
an'  dey  flew  aroun'  an'  got  up  a  big  supper  fo'  dem.  We 
all  turned  in,  an'  dar  was  hurry-skurry  all  ober  de  big 
house,  fo'  de  ossifers  sed  dey  would  stay  all  night  if  de 
sogers  ob  you-uns  would  let  dem.  Dey  said  de  Linkum 
sogers  was  comin'  dat  away,  but  dey  wouldn't  be  'long 
afore  de  mawnin',  an'  dey  was  a-gwine  to  whip  dem.  All 
was  light  talk  an'  larfin'  an'  jingle  ob  sabres.  De  house 
was  nebber  so  waked  up  afo'.  De  young  ladies  was  high- 
strung  an'  beliebed  dat  one  ob  our  sogers  could  whip  ten 
Linkum  men.  In  de  big  yard  betwixt  de  house  an'  de  sta- 
bles de  men  was  feedin'  dere  hosses,  an'  we  had  a  great  pot 
ob  coffee  bilin'  fo'  dem,  too,  an'  oder  tings,  fo'  de  missus 
sed  dere  sogers  mus'  hab  eberyting  she  had. 

"Well,  bimeby,  as  I  was  helpin'  put  de  tings  on  de  table, 
I  heared  shots  way  off  at  de  foot  ob  de  lawn.  Frontin'  de 
house  dar  was  a  lawn  mos'  half  a  mile  long,  dat  slope  down 
to  de  road,  and  de  Linkum  sogers  was  'spected  to  come  dat 
away,  an'  dere  was  a  lookout  for  dem  down  dar.  As  soon 
as  de  ossifers  heared  de  shots  dey  rush  out  an'  shout  to  dere 
men,  an'  dey  saddle  up  in  a  hurry  an'  gallop  out  in  de  lawn 
in  front  of  de  house  an'  form  ranks." 

l,How  many  were  there?"  Marian  asked,  her  cheeks 
already  burning  with  excitement. 

"Law,  missy,  I  doesn't  know.  Dere  was  a  right  smart 
lot — hundreds  I  should  tink." 

"Dere  was  not  quite  two  hundred,  missy,"  said  Zeb;  tvI 
counted  dem;"  and  then  he  looked  toward  his  mother,  who 
continued: 

"De  young  ladies  an1  de  missus  went  out  on  de  verandy 


AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

dat  look  down  de  lawn,  and  Missy  Roberta,  de  oldest  one, 
said,  'Now,  maumy,  you  can  see  the  difference  between  our 
sogers  an'  de  Linkum  men,  as  you  call  dem. '  Missy  Ro- 
berta had  great  black  eyes  an'  was  alius  a-grievin'  dat  she 
wasn't  a  man  so  she  could  be  a  soger,  but  Missy  S'wanee 
had  blue  eyes  like  her  moder,  an'  was  as  full  ob  frolic  as  a 
kitten.  She  used  ter  say,  'I  doesn't  want  ter  be  a  man,  fer 
I  kin  make  ten  men  fight  fer  me. '  So  she  could,  sho'  'nuff, 
fer  all  de  young  men  in  our  parts  would  fight  de  debil  his- 
self  for  de  sake  ob  Missy  S'wanee." 

"Go  on,  go  on,"  cried  Marian;  "the  Northern  soldiers 
were  coming — " 

"Deed,  an'  dey  was,  missy — comin'  right  up  de  lawn 
'fore  our  eyes,  an'  dribin'  in  a  few  ob  our  sogers  dat  was 
a-watchin'  fer  dem  by  de  road;  dey  come  right  'long  too. 
I  could  see  dere  sabres  flashin'  in  de  sunset  long  way  off. 
One  ossifer  set  dere  men  in  ranks,  and  den  de  oder  head 
ossifer  come  ridin'  up  to  de  verandy,  an'  Missy  Roberta 
gave  de  ribbin  from  her  ha'r  to  de  one  dey  call  cunnel,  an* 
de  oder  ossifer  ask  Missy  S'wanee  fer  a  ribbin,  too.  She 
larf  an'  say,  'Win  it,  an'  you  shall  hab  it.'  Den  off  dey 
gallop,  Missy  Roberta  cryin'  arter  dem,  'Don't  fight  too  fa' 
away;  I  want  to  see  de  Linkum  hirelin's  run.'  Den  de 
words  rung  out,  'For'ard,  march,  trot,'  an'  down  de  lawn 
dey  went.  De  Linkum  men  was  now  in  plain  sight.  Zeb, 
you  tell  how  dey  look  an'  what  dey  did.  I  was  so  afeard 
fer  my  missus  and  de  young  ladies,  I  was  'mos'  out  ob  my 
mind." 

"Well,  mass'r  and  ladies,"  said  Zeb,  rising  and  making 
a  respectful  bow,  "I  was  at  an  upper  window  an'  could  see 
eberyting.  De  Linkum  men  was  trottin',  too,  an'  comin'  in 
two  ranks,  one  little  way  'hind  de  toder.  Right  smart  ways 
afore  dese  two  ranks  was  a  line  of  cavalry -men  a  few  feet 
apart  from  each  oder,  an'  dis  line  reach  across  the  hull  lawn 
to  de  woods  on  de  oder  side.  I  soon  seed  dat  dere  was 
Linkum  sogers  in  de  woods,  too.  Dey  seemed  sort  ob  out- 
side sogers  all  arouu'  de  two  ranks  in  de  middle.     Dey  all 


"DE  HEAD  L1NKUM  MAN  WAS  CAP'N  LANE"       265 

come  on  fas',  not  a  bit  afeard,  an'  de  thin  line  in  front  was 
firm1  at  our  sogers  dat  had  been  a-watchin'  down  by  de 
road,  an'  our  sogers  was  a-firin'  back. 

"Bimeby,  soon,  bofe  sides  come  nigh  each  oder,  den  de 
thin  line  ob  Linkum  men  swept  away  to  de  lef,  at  a  gallop, 
an'  our  sogers  an1  de  fust  rank  ob  Linkum  men  run  dere 
hosses  at  each  oder  wid  loud  yells.  'Clar  to  you,  my  heart 
jus'  stood  still.  Neber  heard  such  horrid  noises,  but  I  neber 
took  my  eyes  away,  for  I  beliebed  I  saw  my  freedom  comin'. 
Fer  a  while  J  couldn't  tell  how  it  was  gwine;  dere  was 
nothin'  but  clash  ob  sabres,  an'  bofe  sides  was  all  mixed 
up,  fightin'  hand  ter  hand. 

"I  was  wonderin'  why  de  second  rank  of  Linkum  men 
didn't  do  nothin',  for  dey  was  standin'  still  wid  a  man  on 
a  hoss,  out  in  front  ob  dem.  Suddenly  I  heard  a  bugle 
soun',  an'  de  Linkum  men  dat  was  fightin'  gave  way  to 
right  an'  lef,  an'  de  man  on  de  hoss  wave  his  sword  an' 
start  for'ard  at  a  gallop  wid  all  his  men  arter  him.  Den 
our  sogers  'gan  to  give  back,  fightin'  as  dey  came.  Dey 
was  brave,  dey  was  stubborn  as  mules,  but  back  dey  had 
to  come.  De  head  Linkum  ossifer  was  leadin'  all  de  time. 
I  neber  seed  such  a  man,  eberyting  an'  eberybody  guv  way 
afo'  him.  De  oder  Linkum  sogers  dat  I  thought  was 
whipped  wasn't  whipped  at  all,  fer  dey  come  crowdin' 
aroun'  arter  de  head  ossifer,  jes'  as  peart  as  eber. 

"Front  ob  de  house  our  ossifers  an'  sogers  made  a  big 
stan',  fer  de  missus  an'  de  young  ladies  stood  right  dar  on 
de  verandy,  wabin'  dere  hankerchiefs  an'  cryin'  to  dem  to 
dribe  de  Yankee  back.  I  knowed  my  moder  was  on  de  ve- 
randy, an'  I  run  to  her,  an'  sho'  'nuff,  dar  she  was  stan'in' 
right  in  front  of  Missy  S'wanee  an'  'treatin  de  missus  an' 
de  young  ladies  ter  go  in,  fer  de  bullets  was  now  flyin'  tick. 
But  dey  wouldn't  go  in,  an'  Missy  Roberta  was  wringin1 
hei  han's,  an'  cryin',  'Oh,  dat  I  was  a  man!'  De  cunnel, 
de  oder  ossifer,  an'  a  lot  ob  our  sogers  wouldn't  give  back 
an  inch.     Dar  dey  was,  fightin'  right  afore  our  eyes.     De 

rest  ob  dere  sogers  was  givin'  way  eb'rywhar.     De  Linkum 

R       Yi— 12 


266  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

sogers  soon  made  a  big  rush  togedder.  De  cunnel's  Loss 
went  down.  In  a  minute  dey  was  surrounded;  some  was 
killed,  some  wounded,  an'  de  rest  all  taken,  'cept  de  young 
ossifer  dat  Missy  S'wanee  tole  to  win  her  colors.  He  was  on 
a  po'ful  big  hoss,  an'  he  jes'  break  right  through  eb'rything, 
an'  was  off  wid  de  rest.  De  Linkum  sogers  followed  onr 
firin'  at  'em. 

"De  missus  fainted  dead  away,  an'  my  moder  held  her 
in  her  arms.  De  head  Linkum  ossifer  now  rode  up  to  de 
verandy  an'  took  off  his  hat,  an'  he  say:  'Ladies,  I  admire 
your  co'age,  but  you  should  not  'spose  yourselves  so  need- 
lessly. Should  de  vict'ry  still  remain  wid  our  side,  I  promise 
you  'tection  an'  'munity  from  'noyance!' 

"Den  he  bow  an'  gallop  arter  his  men  dat  was  chasin' 
our  sogers,  leabin'  anoder  ossifer  in  charge  ob  de  pris'ners. 
De  head  Linkum  man  was  Cap'n  Lane." 

ltI  knew  it,  I  knew  it,"  cried  Marian.  4lAh!  he's  a 
friend  to  be  proud  of." 

Her  father  and  mother  looked  at  her  glowing  cheeks  and 
flashing  eyes,  and  dismissed  Merwyn  from  the  possibilities 
oi  the  future. 


THE    SIGNAL    LIGHT  267 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE      SIGNAL      LIGHT 

THE  colored  woman  again  took  up  the  thread  of  the 
story  which  would  explain  her  presence  and  her 
possession  of  a  note  from  Captain  Lane,  recom- 
mending  her  and   her  son  to  Mr.    Vosburgh's  protection. 

'k  Yes,  missy,"  she  said,  "Cap'n  Lane  am  a  fren'  ter  be 
proud  ob.  I  tinks  he  mus'  be  like  Mass'r  Linkum  hisself, 
fer  dere  nebber  was  a  man  more  braver  and  more  kinder. 
Now  l'se  gwine  ter  tell  yer  what  happen  all  that  drefful 
night,  an'  Zeb  will  put  in  his  word  'bout  what  he  knows. 
While  de  cap'n  was  a-speakin'  to  de  young  ladies,  de  mis- 
sus jes'  lay  in  my  arms  as  ef  she  was  dead.  Missy  Roberta, 
as  she  listen,  stand  straight  and  haughty,  an1  give  no  sign 
she  hear,  but  Missy  S'wanee,  she  bow  and  say,  'Tank  you, 
sir!'  Zeb  called  some  ob  de  house-servants,  an'  we  carry 
de  missus  to  her  room,  an'  de  young  ladies  help  me  bring 
her  to.  Den  I  stayed  wid  her,  a-fannin'  her  an'  a-cheerin' 
an'  a-tellin'  her  dat  I  knew  Cap'n  Lane  wouldn't  let  no 
harm  come  ter  dem.  Now,  Zeb,  you  seed  what  happen 
downstars." 

kk  Yes,  mass'r  an'  ladies,  I  kep'  my  eyes  out,  fer  I  tinks 
my  chance  is  come  now,  if  eber.  Cap'n  Lane  soon  come 
back  an'  said  to  de  ossifer  in  charge  ob  de  pris'ners — an' 
dere  was  more  pris'ners  bein'  brought  in  all  de  time — sez 
Cap'n  Lane,  kDe  en'my  won't  stand  agin.  I'se  sent  Cap'n 
Walling  in  pursuit,  an'  now  we  mus'  make  prep'rations  fer 
de  night.'  Den  a  man  dey  call  a  sergeant,  who'd  been  a 
spyin'  roun'  de  kitchen,  an'  lookin'  in  de  dinin'-room  win- 


268  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ders,  come  up  an'  say  something  to  Cap'n  Lane;  an'  he 
come  up  to  cle  doah  an'  say  he  like  ter  see  one  ob  de  ladies. 
I  call  Missy  S'wanee,  an'  she  come,  cool  an'  lady- like,  an' 
not  a  bit  afeard,  an'  he  take  off  his  hat  to  her,  an'  say: 

"  'Madam,  I'se  sorry  all  dis  yer  happen  'bout  yer  house, 
but  I'se  could  not  help  it.  Dere's  a  good  many  woun'ed, 
an'  our  surgeon  is  gwine  ter  treat  all  alike.  I'se  tole  dat 
yer  had  coffee  a-bilin'  an'  supper  was  ready.  Now  all  I 
ask  is,  dat  de  woun'ed  on  bofe  sides  shall  have  'freshments 
fust,  an'  den  ef  dere's  anyting  lef ,  I'd  like  my  ossifers  to 
have  some  supper.'  Den  he  kinder  smile  as  he  say,  'I 
know  you  'spected  oder  company  dis  ebenin',  an'  when  de 
woun'ed  is  provided  fer,  de  ossifers  on  your  side  can  hab 
supper  too.  1  hab  ordered  de  hospital  made  in  de  out- 
buildin's,  an'  de  priv'cy  ob  your  home  shall  not  be  'truded 
on.' 

" 'Cunnel,'  say  Missy  S'wanee.  'Plain  Cap'n,'  he  say, 
interruptin' — 'Cap'n  Lane.' 

"  'Cap'n  Lane,  she  goes  on,  'I  tanks  you  fer  your  court- 
esy, an'  'sideration.  I  did  not  'spect  it.  Your  wishes 
shall  be  carried  out.'  Den  she  says,  'I'se'll  hab  more 
supper  pervided,  an'  we'll  'spect  you  wid  your  ossifers'; 
for  she  wanted  ter  make  fren's  wid  him,  seein'  we  was  all 
in  his  po'er.  He  says,  'No,  madam,  I'se  take  my  supper 
wid  my  men.  I  could  not  be  an  unwelcome  gues'  in  any 
house.  What  1  asks  for  my  ossifers,  I  asks  as  a  favor;  I 
doesn't  deman'  it.'  Den  he  bows  an'  goes  away.  Miss 
S'wanee,  she  larf — she  was  alius  a-larfin'  no  matter  what 
happen — an'  she  says,  'I'se'll  get  eben  wid  him.'  Well, 
de  cap'n  goes  an'  speaks  to  de  cunnel,  an'  de  oder  cap- 
tured ossifers  ob  our  sogers,  an'  dey  bow  to  him,  an'  den 
dey  comes  up  an'  sits  on  de  verandy,  an'  Missy  Roberta 
goes  out,  and  dey  talk  in  low  tones,  an'  I  couldn't  hear 
what  dey  say.  I  was  a-helpin'  Missy  S'wanee,  an'  she  says 
to  me,  'Zeb,  could  you  eber  tink  dat  a  Yankee  cap'n  could 
be  such  a  gemlin  ?'  I  didn't  say  nuflin',  fer  I  didn't  want 
anybody  ter  'spect  what  was  in  my  min',  but  eb'ry  chance  I 


THE   SIGNAL    LIGHT  269 

git  I  keep  my  eye  on  Cap'n  Lane,  fer  I  believed  he  could 
gib  us  our  liberty.  He  was  aroun'  'mong  de  woun'ed,  an' 
seem'  ter  buryin'  de  dead,  an'  postin'  an'  arrangin'  his  men; 
deed,  an'  was  all  ober  eberywhar. 

"By  dis  time  de  ebenin'  was  growin'  dark,  de  woun'ed 
had  been  cared  for,  an'  our  ossifers  an'  de  Linkum  ossifers 
sat  down  to  supper;  an'  dey  talk  an'  larf  as  if  dey  was  good 
fren's.  Yer'd  tink  it  was  a  supper-party,  ef  dere  hadn't 
been  a  strappin'  big  soger  walkin'  up  an'  down  de  verandy 
whar  he  could  see  in  de  winders.  1  help  waits  on  de  table, 
an'  Missy  Roberta,  she  was  rudder  still  an'  glum-like,  but 
Missy  S'wanee,  she  smiles  on  all  alike,  an'  she  say  to  de 
Linkum  ossifers,  'I  'preciate  de  court'sy  ob  your  cap'n, 
eben  do'  he  doesn't  grace  our  board.  I  shall  take  de  lib- 
erty, howsemeber,  ob  sendin'  him  some  supper;'  an'  she 
put  a  san'wich  an'  some  cake  an'  a  cup  ob  coffee  on  a  waiter 
an'  sen'  me  out  to  him  whar  he  was  sittin'  by  de  fire  in  de 
edge  ob  de  woods  on  de  lawn.  He  smile  an'  say,  'Tell  de 
young  lady  dat  I  drink  to  her  health  an'  happier  times.' 
Den  I  gits  up  my  co'age  an'  says,  'Cap'n  Lane,  I  wants  ter 
see  yer  when  my  work's  done  in  de  house.'  He  say,  'All 
right,  come  ter  me  here.'  Den  he  look  at  me  sharp  an'  say, 
'Can  I  trus'  yer?'  An'  I  say,  'Yes,  Mass'r  Cap'n;  I'se  Lin- 
kum, troo  an'  troo.'  Den  he  whisper  in  my  ear  de  password, 
'White-rose.'  " 

Marian  remembered  that  she  had  given  him  a  white  rose 
when  he  had  asked  for  her  colors.  He  had  made  it  his 
countersign  on  the  evening  of  his  victory. 

44  Arter  supper  oar  ossifers  were  taken  down  ter  de  oder 
pris'ners,  an'  guards  walk  aroun'  dem  all  night.  I  help  clar 
up  de  tings,  an'  watch  my  chance  ter  steal  away.  At  las' 
de  house  seem  quiet.  I  tought  de  ladies  had  gone  ter  dere 
rooms,  an'  I  put  out  de  light  in  de  pantry,  an'  was  watchin' 
an'  waitin'  an'  listenin'  to  be  sho'  dat  no  one  was  'roun, 
when  I  heared  a  step  in  de  hall.  De  pantry  doah  was  on 
a  crack,  an'  I  peeps  out,  an'  my  bref  was  nigh  took  away 
when  1  sees  a  rebel  ossifer,  de  one  dat  got  away,  in  de  fight. 


270  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

He  give  a  long,  low  whistle,  an'  den  dere  was  a  rustle  in  de 
hall  above,  an'  Missy  Roberta  came  flyin'  down  de  starway. 
I  know  den  dat  dere  was  mischief  up,  an'  I  listen  wid  all 
my  ears.     She  say  to  him,  'How  awfully  imprudent!'     An' 
she  put  de  light  out  in  de  hall,  les'  somebody  see  in.     Den 
she  say,  'Shell  we  go  in  de  parlor?'     He  say,  'No,  dere's 
two  doahs  here,  each  end  de  hall,  an'  a  chance  ter  go  out 
de  winders,   too.     I  mus'  keep  open  ebery  line  ob  retreat. 
Are  dere  any  Yanks  in  de  house?'     She  say,  'No'— dat  de 
Union  cap'n  very  'sid'rate.     'Curse  him!'  sed  de  reb;  'he 
spoil  my  ebenin'  wid  Miss  S'wanee,  but  tell  her  I  win  her 
colors  yet,  an1  pay  dis  Yankee  cap'n   a  bigger  interest  in 
blows  dan  he  eber  had  afo'.     Den  he  'splain  how  he  got 
his  men  togedder,  an*  he  foun'  anoder  'tachment  ob  rebs, 
an'   how   dey  would  all  come  in  de  mawnin',  as  soon  as 
light,  an'  ride  right  ober  eberyting,  an'   'lease  de  cunnel 
an'  all  de  oder  pris'ners.     Den  he  says,  'We'se  a-comin'  on 
de  creek- road.     Put  a   dim   light  in   de  winder  facin'  that 
way,  an'  as  long  as  we  see  it  burnin'  we'll  know  dat  all's 
quiet  an'  fav'able,  an'  tell  Missy  S'wanee  to  hab  her  colors 
ready.     Dey  tought  1  was  one  ob   de  Yanks  in  de  dark, 
when  I   come  in,    but  gettin'   away'll  be   more   tick'lish.' 
Den  she  say,   'Don't  go  out  ob  de  doah.     Drap  from  de 
parlor  winder  inter  de  shrub'ry,    an'    steal   away   troo   de 
garden.'     While  dey  was  gone  ter   de  parlor,    I  step  out 
an'  up  de  starway  mighty  sudden.     Den  I  whip  aroun'  to 
de  beginmn'  ob  de  garret  starway  an'   listen.     Soon  Missy 
Roberta  come  out  de  parlor  an'  look  in  de  pantry  an1  de 
ocler   rooms,  an'  she  sof'ly  call  me,  'kase  she   know  I  was 
las'  up  'round  de  house;  but  I'se  ain't  sayin'  nuffin'.     Den 
she  go  in  de  missus  room,  whar  my  moder  was,  an'  soon 
she  and  Missy  S'wanee  came  out  an'  whisper,  an'  Missy 
S'wanee   was   a-larfm'    how  as   ef   she  was   pleased.      Den 
Missy  S'wanee  go   back  to   de  missus,   an'  Missy  Roberta 
go  to  her  room. 

"Now  was  my    chance,  an'  I   tuck  ofi'n   my  shoes  an' 
carried  dem,  an'  1  tank  de  Lord  I  heared  it  all,  fer  I  says, 


THE    SIGNAL    LIGHT  271 

'Cap'n  Lane' 11  give  me  my  liberty  now  sho'  'nuff,  when  I 
tells  him  all.'  I'se  felt  sho'  he'd  win  de  fight  in  de  maw- 
nin', fer  he  seemed  ob  de  winnin'  kine.  I  didn't  open  any 
ob  de  doahs  on  de  fust  floah,  but  stole  down  in  de  cellar, 
'kase  I  knowed  ob  a  winder  dat  I  could  creep  outen.  I  got 
away  from  de  house  all  right,  an'  went  toward  de  fire  where 
I  lef  Cap'n  Lane.  Soon  a  gruff  voice  said,  'Halt!'  I  guv 
de  password  mighty  sudden,  an'  den  said,  'I  want  to  see 
Cap'n  Lane.'  De  man  call  anoder  soger,  an'  he  come  an' 
question  me,  an'  den  took  me  ter  de  cap'n.  An'  he  was 
a-sleepin'  as  if  his  moder  had  rocked  'im !  But  he  was  on 
his  feet  de  moment  he  spoke  to.  He  'membered  me,  an' 
ask  ef  de  mawnin'  wouldn't  answer.  I  say,  'Mass'r  Cap'n, 
I'se  got  big  news  fer  yer. '  Den  he  wide  awake  sho'  'nuff, 
an'  tuck  me  one  side,  a'  I  tole  him  all.  'What's  yer  name  ?' 
he  says.  'Zeb  Borden,'  I  answers.  Den  he  say:  'Zeb, 
you've  been  a  good  fren'.  Ef  I  win  de  fight  in  de  mawnin' 
you  shell  hab  your  liberty.  It's  yours  now,  ef  you  can  get 
away.'  I  says  I'se  lame  an'  couldn't  get  away  unless  he 
took  me,  an'  dat  I  wanted  my  moder  ter  go,  too.  Den 
he  tought  a  minute,  an'  went  back  ter  de  fire  an'  tore  out 
a  little  book  de  paper  we  brought,  an'  he  says,  'What  your 
moder 's  name  ?'  An'  I  says,  'Dey  call  her  Maumy  Borden.' 
Den  he  wrote  de  lines  we  bring,  an'  he  says:  'No  tellin'  what 
happen  in  de  mawnin'.  Here's  some  money  dat  will  help 
you  'long  when  you  git  in  our  lines.  Dis  my  fust  inder- 
pendent  comman',  an'  ef  yer  hadn't  tole  me  dis  I  might  a' 
los'  all  I  gained.  Be  faithful,  Zeb;  keep  yer  eyes  an'  ears 
open,  an'  I'll  take  care  ob  yer.  Now  slip  back,  fer  yer 
might  be  missed.' 

"I  got  back  to  my  lof  mighty  sudden,  an'  I  was  jis' 
a-shakin'  wid  fear,  for  I  beliebe  dat  Missy  Roberta  would  a' 
killed  me  wid  her  own  hands  ef  she'd  knowed.  She  was 
like  de  ole  mass'r,  mighty  haughty  an'  despit-like,  when 
she  angry.  I  wasn't  in  de  lof  none  too  soon,  fer  Missy 
Roberta  was  'spicious  and  uneasy-like,  an'  she  come  to  de 
head  ob  de  gerret  starway  an'  call  my  name.     At  fust  I 


272  ^IJV    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ain't  sayin'  sufnn',  an'  she  call  louder.  Den  I  say,  'Dat 
you,  Missy  Roberta  ?'  Den  she  seem  to  tink  dat  I  was  all 
right.  I  slipped  arter  her  down  de  starway  an'  listen,  an' 
I  know  she  gwme  ter  put  de  light  in  de  winder.  Den  she 
go  to  her  room  again. 

"A  long  time  pass,  an'  I  hear  no  soun'.  De  house  was 
so  still  dat  I  done  got  afeard,  knowin'  dere  was  mischief 
up.  Dere  was  a  little  winder  in  my  lof  lookin'  toward  de 
creek- road,  an'  on  de  leabes  ob  some  trees  I  could  see  a  lit- 
tle glimmer  ob  de  light  dat  Missy  Roberta  had  put  dar  as  a 
signal.  Dat  glimmer  was  jes'  awful,  fer  I  knowed  it  mean 
woun's  and  death  to  de  sogers,  an'  liberty  or  no  liberty  fer 
me.  Bimeby  I  heared  steps  off  toward  de  creek-road,  but 
dey  soon  die  away.  I  watched  an'  waited  ter'ble  long  time, 
an'  de  house  an'  all  was  still,  'cept  de  tread  ob  de  guards. 
Mus'  a'  been  about  tree  in  de  mawnin'  when  I  heared  a  stir. 
It  was  very  quiet-like,  an'  I  hear  no  words,  but  now  an' 
den  dere  was  a  jingle  like  a  sabre  make  when  a  man  walk. 
I  stole  down  de  starway  an'  look  outen  a  winder  in  de  d'rec- 
tion  whar  Cap'n  Lane  was,  an'  I  see  dat  de  Linkum  men 
had  let  all  dere  fires  go  out.  It  was  bery  dark.  Den  I  hear 
Missy  Roberta  open  her  doah,  an'  I  whip  back  ter  my  lof. 
She  come  soon  an'  had  a  mighty  hard  time  wakin'  me  up, 
an'  den  she  say:  lZeb,  dere's  sumpen  goin'  on  'mong  de 
Yankee  sogers.  Listen.'  I  says,  'I  doesn't  hear  nuffin'.' 
She  says:  'Dere  is;  dey's  a-saddlin'  up,  an'  movin'  roun'. 
I  want  you  ter  steal  outen  an'  see  what  dey  is  doin',  an'  tell 
me.'  I  says,  'Yes,  missy.'  I  tought  de  bole  plan  would 
be  de  bes'  plan  now,  an'  I  put  on  my  shoes  an'  went  out. 
Putty  soon  I  comes  back  and  says  to  her,  'I  axed  a  man, 
an'  he  tole  me  dey  was  changin'  de  guard.' — 'Did  de  res' 
seem  quiet  ?'—' Yes,  missy,  dey  is  sleepin'  'round  under  de 
trees.'  She  seemed  greatly  'lieved,  an'  says,  'You  watch 
aroun'  an'  tell  me  ef  dere's  any  news.'  I  stole  out  again 
an'  crep'  up  'hind  some  bushes,  an1  den  I  sho'  dat  de 
Linkum  men  was  a-slippin'  away  toward  de  creek-road, 
but  de   guards    kep'    walkin'    'roun    de    pris'ners,   jes'    de 


THE   SIGNAL    LIGHT  273 

same.  On  a  sudden  dere  was  a  man  right  'longside  ob 
me,  an'  he  say,  'Make  a  noise  or  move,  an'  you  are  dead. 
What  are  you  doin'  here  ?'  I  gasp  out,  'White-rose,  Cap'n 
Lane.' — 'Oh,  it's  you,'  he  say,  wid  a  low  larf.  Fo'  I  could 
speak  dere  come  a  scream,  sich  as  I  neber  heared,  den  an- 
oder  an'  anoder.  'Dey  comes  from  de  missus'  room.'  Den 
he  say,  'Run  down  dar  an'  ask  de  sergeant  ob  de  guard  to 
send  tree  men  wid  you,  an'  come  quick!'  Now  moder  kin 
tell  yer  what  happened.  I  had  lef  de  back  hall  doah  un- 
locked, an'  de  cap'n  went  in  like  a  flash." 

"De  good  Lor'  bress  Cap'n  Lane,"  began  the  colored 
woman,  "fer  he  come  just  in  time.  De  missus  had  been 
wakin'  an'  fearful-like  mos'  ob  de  night,  but  at  las'  we  was 
all  a-dozin'.  I  was  in  a  char  by  her  side,  an'  Missy  S'wanee 
laid  on  a  lounge.  She  hadn't  undress,  an'  fer  a  long  time 
seemed  as  if  listenin'.  At  las'  dere  come  a  low  knock,  an' 
we  all  started  up.  I  goes  to  de  doah  an'  say,  'Who's  dar?' 
— 'A  message  from  Cap'n  Lane,'  says  a  low  voice  outside. 
'Open  de  doah,'  says  Missy  S'wanee;  Tse  not  afeard  ob 
him.'  De  moment  I  slip  back  de  bolt,  a  big  man,  wid  a 
black  face,  crowds  in  an'  say,  'Not  a  soun',  as  you  valley 
your  lives:  I  want  yer  jewelry  an'  watches;'  an'  he  held  a 
pistol  in  his  hand.  At  fust  we  tought  it  was  a  plantation 
han',  fer  he  tried  ter  talk  like  a  cullud  man,  an'  Missy 
S'wanee  'gan  ter  talk  ter  him;  but  he  drew  a  knife  an' 
says,  'Dis  won't  make  no  noise,  an'  it'll  stop  yer  noise  ef 
yer  make  any.  Not  a  word,  but  gib  up  eberyting.'  De 
missus  was  so  beat  out  wid  fear,  dat  she  say,  'Gib  him 
eberyting.'  An'  Missy  S'wanee,  more'n  half-dead,  too, 
began  to  gib  dere  watches  an'  jewels.  De  man  put  dem 
in  his  pocket,  an'  den  he  lay  his  hands  on  Missy  S'wanee, 
to  take  off  her  ring.  Den  she  scream,  an'  I  flew  at  'im  an' 
tried  to  tear  his  eyes  out.  Missy  Roberta  'gan  screamin', 
so  we  knowed  she  was  'tacked  too.  De  man  was  strong  an' 
rough,  an1  whedder  he  would  a'  killed  us  or  not  de  Lord 
only  knows,  fer  jes'  den  de  doah  flew  wide  open,  an'  Cap'n 
Lane  stood  dere  wid  his  drawn  sword.      In  a  secon'  he  seed 


274  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

what  it  all  meant,  an'  sprung  in  an'  grabbed  de  robber  by 
de  neck  an'  jerked  him  outen  inter  de  hall.  Den  de  man 
'gan  ter  beg  fer  mercy,  an'  tole  his  name.  It  was  one  of 
Cap'n  Lane's  own  sogers.  At  dis  moment  Missy  Roberta 
rush  outen  her  room,  cry  in',  'Help!  murder!'  Den  we 
heared  heaby  steps  rushing  up  de  starway,  an'  tree  ob 
Cap'n  Lane's  sogers  dash  for'ard.  As  soon  as  Missy  Rob- 
erta see  de  cap'n  wid  de  light  from  de  open  doah  shinin'  on 
his  face,  she  comes  an'  ask,  'What  does  dis  outrage  mean?' 
■ — 'It  mean  dat  dis  man  shell  be  shot  in  the  mawnin','  he 
say,  in  a  chokin'  kind  ob  voice,  fer  he  seem  almost  too 
angry  to  speak.  Den  he  ask,  'Were  you  'tacked  also?' — 
'Yes,'  she  cried,  'dere's  a  man  in  my  room.' — 'Which 
room?'  An'  she  pointed  to  de  doah.  De  fus'  robber 
den  made  a  bolt  ter  get  away,  but  de  cap'n's  men  cotch 
'im.  'Tie  his  ban's  'hind  his  back,  an'  shoot  him  if  he 
tries  to  run  agin,'  said  de  cap'n;  den  he  say  to  Missy 
Roberta:  'Go  in  your  moder's  room.  Don't  leave  it  with- 
out my  permission.  Ef  dere  is  a  man  in  your  room,  he 
shall  shar  de  fate  ob  dat  villain  dat  I've  'spected  ob  bein' 
a  tief  afore.'  An'  he  went  an'  looken  in  Missy  Roberta's 
room.  In  a  few  moments  he  come  back  an'  say,  'Dere  was 
a  man  dar,  but  he  'scape  troo  de  winder  on  de  verandy-roof. 
Ef  I  kin  discober  'im  he  shall  die  too.'  Den  he  say,  grave 
an'  sad- like:  'Ladies,  dere  is  bad  men  in  eb'ry  army.  I'se 
deeply  mort'fied  dat  dis  should  happen.  You'll  bar  me 
witness  dat  I  tried  to  save  you  from  all  'noyance.  I  know 
dis  man,'  pointin'  to  a  soger  dat  stood  near,  'an'  I'll  put 
him  in  dis  hall  on  guard.  His  orders  are — you  hear  dem 
— not  to  let  any  one  come  in  de  hall,  an'  not  to  let  any  one 
leabe  dis  room.  As  long  as  yer  all  stay  in  dis  room,  you 
are  safe,  eben  from  a  word.'  Missy  S'wanee  rush  for'ard 
an'  take  his  han',  an'  say,  'Eben  ef  you  is  my  en'my  you'se 
a  gallant  soger  an'  a  gemlin,  an'  I  tanks  you.'  De  cap'n 
smile  an'  bow,  an'  say,  'In  overcomin'  your  prej'dice  I'se 
'chieved  my  bes'  vict  ry.'  An'  he  gib  her  back  all  de  jew- 
els an'    watches,  an'    drew   de  doah  to,  an'  lef  us  to  our- 


THE    SIGNAL    LIGHT  275 

selves.  Den  we  hear  'im  go  to  a  wes'  room  back  ob  de 
house  wid  anoder  soger,  an'  soon  he  come  back  alone,  an' 
den  de  house  all  still  'cept  de  eben  tread  ob  de  man  outside. 
Missy  Roberta  clasp  her  han's  an'  look  wild.  Den  she  whis- 
per to  Missy  S'wanee,  an'  dey  seem  in  great  trouble.  Den 
she  go  an1  open  de  doah  an'  say  to  de  soger  dat  she  want  ter 
go  ter  her  room.  '  You  cannot,  lady,'  said  de  soger.  'You 
heared  my  orders.  "—'I'll  only  stay  a  minute,'  she  say. 
'You  cannot  pass  dat  doah,'  said  de  soger.  'But  I  mus' 
an'  will,'  cried  Missy  Roberta,  an'  she  make  a  rush  ter 
get  out.  De  soger  held  her  still.  'Unhan'  me!'  she  almost 
screamed.  He  turn  her  'roun'  an'  push  her  back  in  de 
room,  an'  den  says:  'Lady,  does  you  tink  a  soger  can  dis- 
obey orders?  Dere  ain't  no  use  ob  your  takin'  on  'bout 
dat  light.  We'se  watch  it  all  night  as  well  as  your  fren's, 
an'  de  capt'n  has  lef  a  soger  guardin'  it,  to  keep  it  burnin'. 
Ef  I  should  let  yer  go,  yer  couldn't  put  it  out,  an'  ef  it  had 
been  put  out  any  time,  we'd  a'  lighted  it  agin.  So  dere's 
nuffin'  fer  yer  to  do  but  "bey  orders  an'  shut  de  doah.  Den 
no  one  will  say  a  word  to  yer,  as  de  cap'n  said.'  Den  he 
pulled  de  doah  to  hisself. 

"Missy  Roberta  'gan  to  wring  her  han's  an'  walk  up  an' 
down  like  a  caged  tiger,  an'  Missy  S'wanee  larf  and  cry  to- 
gedder  as  she  say,  'Cap'n  Lane  too  bright  fer  us.'— 'No,' 
cries  Missy  Roberta,  'somebody's  'trayed  me,  an'  I  could 
strike  a  knife  inter  dere  heart  fer  doin'  it.  Oh,  S'wanee, 
S'wanee,  our  fren's  is  walkin'  right  inter  a  trap.'  Den  she 
run  to  de  winder  an'  open  it  ter  see  ef  she  couldn't  git  down, 
an'  dere  in  de  garden  was  a  soger,  a-walkin'  up  an'  down 
a-watchin'.  '  We  jes'  can't  do  nuffin', '  she  said,  an'  she  'gan 
to  sob  an'  go  'sterical-like.  Missy  S'wanee  tole  de  missus, 
an'  she  wrung  her  han's  an'  cry,  too;  an'  Missy  S'wanee, 
she  was  a-larfin'  an'  a-cryin',  an'  a-prayin'  all  ter  once. 
Suddenly  dere  was  a  shot  off  toward  de  creek-road,  an'  den 
we  was  bery  still.     Now,  Zeb,  you  know  de  res'!" 


276  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

MARIAN   CONTRASTS   LANE   AND   MERWYN 

"/^\H,  come,  this  won't  do  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh, 
I  1  as  Zeb  was  about  to  continue  the  story.  "It's 
^*— *  nearly  midnight  now.  Marian,  dear,  your  cheeks 
and  eyes  look  as  if  you  had  a  fever.  Let  us  wait  and  hear 
the  rest  of  the  story  in  the  morning,  or  you'll  be  ill,  your 
mother  will  have  a  headache,  and  I  shall  be  unfit  for  my 
work  to-morrow." 

"Papa,  papa,  in  pity  don't  stop  them  till  we  know  all.  If 
Captain  Lane  could  watch  all  night  and  fight  in  the  morn- 
ing, can't  we  listen  for  an  hour  longer?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  cried  Mrs.  Vosburgh,  "let  them  finish.  It's 
like  a  story,  and  I  never  could  sleep  well  till  I  knew  how 
a  story  was  going  to  turn  out. ' ' 

"Wait  a  moment  and  I'll  bring  everybody  something 
nice  from  the  sideboard,  and  you,  also,  papa,  a  cigar  from 
the  library,"  cried  the  young  girl. 

Her  father  smiled  his  acquiescence,  and  in  a  few  moments 
they  were  all  ready  to  listen  to  the  completion  of  a  tragedy 
not  without  its  dash  of  comedy. 

"Arter  Cap'n  Lane  posted  his  guards  in  de  house  an' 
sent  de  robber  off,"  Zeb  resumed,  "he  jump  on  a  hoss 
an'  gallop  toward  de  creek-road.  De  light  in  de  winder 
kep'  a-burnin'!  I  foun'  arterwards  clat  he  an'  his  ossifers 
had  been  down  on  de  creek-road  and  studied  it  all  out.  At 
one  place — whar  it  was  narrer'  wid  tick  woods  on  bofe  sides 
— dey  had  builded  a  high  rail-fence.  Den  below  dat  he  had 
put  sogers  in  de  woods  each  side  without  dere  hosses,  an' 
farder  down  still  he  had  hid  a  lot  of  men  dat  was  mounted. 


MARIAN   CONTRASTS    LANE  AND    MERWYN         277 

Sko'  'nu5,  wid  de  fust  light  of  de  mawnin',  de  rebs  come 
ridin'  toward  de  light  in  de  winder.  I'd  run  out  to  de  hill, 
not  far  away,  ter  see  what  would  happen,  an'  it  was  so  dark 
yet  dat  eb'ryting  was  mixed  up  wid  shadders.  When  de 
rebs  was  a-comin'  by  de  Linkum  men  in  de  woods  a  shot 
was  fired.  Den  I  s'pose  de  rebs  tought  it  would  gib  de 
'larm,  fer  dey  began  ter  ran  dere  bosses  for'ard.  An'  den 
de  Linkum  men  let  dem  nab  it  on  bote  sides  ob  de  road, 
but  dey  kep'  on  till  dey  come  to  de  fence  'cross  de  road,  an' 
den  dey  git  a  volley  in  front.  Dis  skeered  'em,  for  dey 
knowed  dat  de  Linkum  men  was  ready,  an'  dey  tried  to  git 
back.  Den  I  heared  a  great  tramplin'  an'  yellin',  an'  dere 
was  Cap'n  Lane  a-leadin'  his  men  an'  bosses  right  in  ahind 
dem.  Dere  was  orful  fightin'  fer  a  while,  an'  de  men  widout 
dere  hosses  leap  outen  de  woods  and  shot  like  mad.  It  was 
flash!  bang!  on  eb'ry  side.  At  las'  de  Linkum  men  won  de 
day,  an'  some  of  de  rebs  burst  troo  de  woods  an'  run,  wid 
Cap'n  Lane's  men  arter  dem,  an'  dey  kep'  a-chasin'  till  a 
bugle  call  dem  back.  Den  I  run  to  de  house,  fer  dey  was 
bringin'  in  de  pris'ners.  Who  should  I  see  'mong  dese  but 
de  bery  ossifer  dat  was  wid  Missy  Roberta  de  night  afore, 
de  one  dat  wanted  de  light  in  de  winder,  an'  he  look  bery 
mad,  I  can  tell  you. 

'"I  was  now  gettin'  broad  day,  an'  de  light  at  las'  was 
outen  de  winder.  Dere  was  nuffin'  mo'  fer  it  to  do.  De 
Linkum  soger  dat  had  been  in  de  house  was  now  helpin' 
guard  de  pris'ners,  an'  Missy  Roberta  an'  Missy  S'wanee 
rup  up  to  de  ossifer  dat  had  been  so  fooled  an'  say:  'We'se 
couldn't  help  it.  Somebody  'trayed  us.  We  was  kep'  under 
guard,  an'  dere  was  a  Yankee  soger  a-keepin'  de  light  burn- 
in'  arter  we  knew  Cap'n  Lane  was  aroun'  an'  ready/ 
Missy  Roberta  look  sharp  at  me,  but  I  'peared  innercent 
as  a  sheep.  Missy  S'wanee  say:  'No  matter,  Major  Den- 
ham,  you  did  all  dat  a  brave  man  could  do,  an'  dar's  my 
colors.     You  hab  won  dem. '     An'  den  he  cheer  up  'mazin'iy= 

tlDen  I  hear  somebody  say  Cap'n  Lane  woun'ed,  an'  I 
slip  out  toward  de  creek-road,  an'  dar  I  see  dem  a-carryin' 


278  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Cap'n  Lane,  an'  de  surgeon  walkin'  'longside  ob  him.  My 
heart  jes'  stood  still  wid  fear.  His  eyes  were  shut,  an'  he 
look  bery  pale- like.  Dey  was  a-carryin'  him  up  de  steps 
ob  de  verandy  when  Missy  S'wanee  came  runnin'  ter  see 
what  was  de  matter.  Den  Cap'n  Lane  open  his  eyes  an'  he 
say:  'Not  in  here.  Put  me  wid  de  oder  woun'ed  men;'  but 
Missy  S'wanee  say,  'No;  he  protec'  us  an'  act  like  a  gemlin, 
an'  he  shall  learn  dat  de  ladies  ob  de  Souf  will  not  be  sur- 
passed.'  De  missus  say  de  same,  but  Missy  Roberta  frown 
an'  say  nuffin'.  She  too  much  put  out  yet  'bout  dat  light 
in  de  winder  an'  de  'feat  it  brought  her  fren's.  De  cap'n 
was  too  weak  an'  gone-like  ter  say  anything  mo',  an'  dey 
carry  him  up  ter  de  bes'  company  room.  I  goes  up  wid 
dem  ter  wait  on  de  surgeon,  an'  he  'zamin'  de  woun'  an' 
gib  de  cap'n  brandy,  an'  at  las'  say  dat  de  cap'n  get  well  ef 
he  keep  quiet  a  few  weeks — dat  he  weak  now  from  de  shock 
an'  loss  ob  blood. 

"In  de  arternoon  hundreds  more  Linkum  men  come,  an' 
Cap'n  Lane's  cunnel  come  wid  dem,  an'  he  praise  de  cap'n 
an'  cheer  him  up,  an'  de  cap'n  was  bery  peart  an'  say  he 
feel  better.  Mos'  ob  de  ossifers  take  supper  at  de  house. 
De  missus  an'  Missy  Roberta  were  perlite  but  bery  cold- 
like, but  Missy  S'wanee,  while  she  show  dat  she  was  a  reb 
down  to  de  bottom  ob  her  good,  kine  heart,  could  smile  an' 
say  sunshiny  tings  all  de  same.  Dis  night  pass  bery  quiet, 
an'  in  de  mawnin'  de  Linkum  cunnel  say  he  had  orders  ter 
'tire  toward  de  Union  lines.  He  feel  bery  bad  'bout  leabin' 
Cap'n  Lane,  but  de  surgeon  say  he  mus'  not  be  moved.  He 
say,  too,  dat  he  stay  wid  de  cap'n  an'  de  oder  badly  woun'ed 
men.  De  cap'n  tell  his  cunnel  'bout  me  an'  my  moder  an' 
what  he  promise  us,  an'  de  cunnel  say  he  take  us  wid  him 
an'  send  us  to  Washin'on.  De  missus  an1  de  young  ladies 
take  on  drefful  'bout  our  gwine,  but  I  say,  'I  mus'  hab  my 
liberty,'  an'  moder  say  she  can't  part  wid  her  own  flesh  an' 
blood—" 

11  Yes,  yes,  but  what  did  'Cap'n'  Lane  say  ?"  interrupted 
Marian. 


MARIAN    CONTRASTS    LANE  AND    MERWYN         279 

"He  tole  me  ter  say  ter  you,  missy,  dat  he  was  gwine  ter 
git  well,  an'  dat  you  mus'n't  worry  'kase  you  didn't  hear 
from  him,  an'  dat  he  know  you'd  be  kine  to  us,  'kase  I'd 
help  him  win  de  vict'ry.  De  surgeon  wrote  some  letters, 
too,  an'  gib  dem  to  de  Linkum  cunnel.  P'raps  you  git  one 
ob  dem.  Dey  put  us  in  an  army  wgon,  an'  bimeby  we  reach 
a  railroad,  an'  dey  gib  us  a  pass  ter  Washin'on,  an'  we  come 
right  on  heah  wid  Cap'n  Lane's  money.  I  doesn't  know 
what  dey  did  with  de  robber — " 

"Oh,  oh,"  cried  Marian,  "it  may  be  weeks  before  I  hear 
from  my  friend  again,  if  I  ever  do." 

"Marian,  dear,"  said  her  father,  "do  not  look  on  the 
dark  side;  it  might  have  been  a  hundred-fold  worse. 
'Cap'n'  Lane  was  in  circumstances  of  great  comfort,  with 
his  own  surgeon  in  care  of  his  wound.  Think  how  many 
poor  fellows  were  left  on  the  field  of  Chancellorsville  to 
Heaven  only  knows  what  fate.  In  such  desperate  fighting 
as  has  been  described  we  have  much  reason  to  be  thankful 
that  he  was  not  killed  outright.  He  has  justly  earned  great 
credit  with  his  superiors,  and  I  predict  that  he  will  get  well 
and  be  promoted.  I  think  you  will  receive  a  letter  in  a  daj 
or  two  from  the  surgeon.  I  prescribe  that  you  and  mamma 
sleep  in  the  morning  till  you  are  rested.  I  won't  grumble 
at  taking  my  coffee  alone."  Then,  to  the  colored  woman 
and  her  son:  "Don't  you  worry.  We'll  see  that  you  are 
taken  care  of." 

Late  as  it  was,  hours  still  elapsed  before  Marian  slept. 
Her  hero  had  become  more  heroic  than  ever.  She  dwelt  on 
his  achievements  with  enthusiasm,  and  thought  of  his  suf- 
ferings with  a  tenderness  never  before  evoked,  while  the 
possibility  that  "Missy  S'wanee"  was  his  nurse  produced 
twinges  approaching  jealousy. 

As  was  expected,  the  morning  post  brought  a  letter  from 
the  surgeon  confirming  the  account  that  had  been  given  by 
the  refugees,  and  full  of  hope-inspiring  words.  Then  for 
weeks  there  were  no  further  tidings  from  Lane. 

Meanwhile,    events   were  culminating    with  terrible  ra- 


280  AX    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

pidity,  and  their  threatening  significance  electrified  the 
North.  The  Southern  people  and  their  sympathizers 
everywhere  were  jubilant  over  the  victory  of  Chancellors- 
ville,  and  both  demanded  and  expected  that  this  success 
should  be  followed  by  decisive  victories.  Lee's  army, 
General  Longstreet  said,  was  4tin  a  condition  of  strength 
and  morale  to  undertake  anything,"  and  Southern  public 
sentiment  and  the  needs  of  the  Eichmond  government  all 
pointed  toward  a  second  and  more  extended  invasion  of  the 
North.  The  army  was  indeed  strong,  disciplined,  a  power- 
ful instrument  in  the  hands  of  a  leader  like  General  Lee. 
Nevertheless,  it  had  reached  about  the  highest  degree  of 
its  strength.  The  merciless  conscription  in  the  South  had 
swept  into  its  ranks  nearly  all  the  able-bodied  men,  and 
food  and  forage  were  becoming  so  scarce  in  war-wasted 
Virginia  and  other  regions  which  would  naturally  sustain 
this  force,  that  a  bold,  decisive  policy  had  become  a  neces- 
sity. It  was  believed  that  on  Northern  soil  the  army  could 
be  fed,  and  terms  of  peace  dictated. 

The  chief  motive  for  this  step  wTas  the  hope  of  a  counter- 
revolution in  the  North  where  the  peace  faction  had  grown 
bold  and  aggressive  to  a  degree  that  only  stopped  short  of 
open  resistance.  The  draft  or  general  conscription  which 
the  President  had  ordered  to  take  place  in  July  awakened 
intense  hostility  to  the  war  and  the  government  on  the  part 
of  a  large  and  rapidly  increasing  class  of  citizens.  This 
class  had  its  influential  and  outspoken  leaders,  who  were 
evidently  in  league  with  a  secret  and  disloyal  organization 
known  as  the  il Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle,"  the  present 
object  of  which  was  the  destruction  of  the  Union  and  the 
perpetuation  of  slavery.  In  the  city  of  New  York  the  spirit 
of  rebellion  was  as  rampant  in  the  breasts  of  tens  of  thou- 
sands as  in  Eichmond,  and  Mr.  Vosburgh  knew  it.  His 
great  sagacity  and  the  means  of  information  at  his  com- 
mand enabled  him  to  penetrate  much  of  the  intrigue  that 
was  taking  place,  and  to  guess  at  far  more.  He  became 
haggard  and  almost  sleepless  from  his  labors  and  anxieties- 


MARIAN    CONTRASTS    LASE  AXD    MERWYN         281 

for  he  knew  that  the  loyal  people  of  the  North  were  livino- 
over  a  volcano. 

Marian  shared  in  this  solicitude,  and  was  his  chief  con- 
fidante.  fle  wished  her,  with  her  mother,  to  go  to  some 
safe  and  secluded  place  in  the  country,  and  offered  to  lease 
again  the  cottage  which  they  had  occupied  the  previous 
summer,  but  Marian  said  that  she  would  not  leave  him, 
and  that  he  must  not  ask  her  to  do  so.  Mrs.  Vosburgh 
was  eventually  induced  to  visit  relatives  in  New  England, 
and  then  father  and  daughter  watched  events  with  a  hun- 
dred-fold more  anxiety  than  that  of  the  majority,  because 
they  were  better  informed  and  more  deeply  involved  in  the 
issues  at  stake  than  many  others.  But  beyond  all  thought 
of  worldly  interests,  their  intense  loyal  feeling  burned  with 
a  pure,  unwavering  flame. 

In  addition  to  all  that  occupied  her  mind  in  connection 
with  her  father's  cares  and  duties,  she  had  other  grounds 
for  anxiety.  Strahan  wrote  that  his  regiment  was  march- 
ing  northward,  and  that  he  soon  expected  to  take  part  in 
the  chief  battle  of  the  war.  Every  day  she  hoped  for  some 
news  from  Lane,  but  none  came.  His  wishes  in  regard  to 
Mammy  Borden  and  her  son  had  been  well  carried  out.  Mr. 
Vosburgh  had  been  led  to  suspect  that  the  man  in  charge  of 
his  offices  was  becoming  rather  too  curious  in  regard  to  his 
affairs,  and  too  well  informed  about  them.  Therefore  Zeb 
was  installed  in  his  place;  and  when  Mrs.  Vosburgh  de- 
parted on  her  visit  Marian  dismissed  the  girl  who  had  suc- 
ceeded Sally  Maguire,  and  employed  the  colored  woman  in 
her  stead.  She  felt  that  this  action  would  be  pleasing  to 
Lane,  and  that  it  was  the  very  least  that  she  could  do. 

Moreover.  Mammy  Borden  was  what  she  termed  a  "char- 
acter," one  to  whom  she  could  speak  with  something  of  the 
freedom  natural  to  the  ladies  of  the  Southern  household. 
The  former  slave  could  describe  a  phase  of  life  and  society 
that  was  full  of  novelty  and  romance  to  Marian,  and  l'de 
young  ladies,"  especially  "Missy  S'wanee,"  were  types  of 
the  Southern  girl  of  whom   she  never  wearied  of  hearing 


282  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

From  the  quaint  talk  of  her  new  servant  she  learned  to  un- 
derstand the  domestic  life  of  those  whom  she  had  regarded 
as  enemies,  and  was  compelled  to  admit  that  in  womanly 
spirit  and  dauntless  patriotism  they  were  her  equals,  and 
had  proved  it  by  facing  dangers  and  hardships  from  which 
she  had  been  shielded.  More  than  all,  the  old  colored  wo 
man  was  a  protegee  of  Captain  Lane  and  was  never  weary 
of  chanting  his  praises. 

Marian  was  sincerely  perplexed  by  the  attitude  of  her 
mind  toward  this  young  officer.  He  kindled  her  enthusiasm 
and  evoked  admiration  without  stint.  He  represented  to  her 
the  highest  type  of  manhood  in  that  period  of  doubt,  dan- 
ger, and  strong  excitement.  Brave  to  the  last  degree,  his 
courage  was  devoid  of  recklessness.  The  simple,  untutored 
description  of  his  action  given  by  the  refugees  had  only 
made  it  all  the  more  clear  that  his  mind  was  as  keen  and 
bright  as  his  sword,  while  in  chivalric  impulses  he  had 
never  been  surpassed.  Unconsciously  Mammy  Borden  and 
her  son  had  revealed  traits  in  him  which  awakened  Marian's 
deepest  respect,  suggesting  thoughts  of  which  she  would  not 
have  spoken  to  any  one.  She  had  been  shown  his  course 
toward  beautiful  women  who  were  in  his  power,  and  who  at 
the  same  time  were  plotting  his  destruction  and  that  of  his 
command.  While  he  foiled  their  hostile  purpose,  no  knight 
of  olden  times  could  have  shown  them  more  thoughtful  con- 
sideration and  respect.  She  felt  that  her  heart  ought  to  go 
out  toward  this  ideal  lover  in  utter  abandon.  Why  did  it 
not?  Why  were  her  pride,  exultation,  and  deep  solicitude 
too  near  akin  to  the  emotions  she  would  have  felt  had  he 
been  her  brother?  Was  this  the  only  way  in  which  she 
could  love?  Would  the  sacred,  mysterious,  and  irresist- 
ible impulses  of  the  heart,  of  which  she  had  read,  follow 
naturally  in  due  time  ? 

She  was  inclined  to  believe  that  this  was  true,  yet,  to 
her  surprise,  the  thought  arose  unbidden:  "If  Willard 
Merwyn  were  showing  like  qualities  and  making  the  same 
record —     What  absurdity  is  this!"  she  exclaimed  aloud, 


MARIAN    CONTRASTS    LANE  AND    MERWYN         283 

"Why  does  this  Mr.  Merwyn  so  haunt  me,  when  I  could 
not  give  him  even  respect  and  friendship,  although  he  sent 
an  army  into  the  field,  yet  was  not  brave  enough  to  go  him- 
self ?  Where  is  he  ?  What  is  he  doing  in  these  supreme 
hours  of  his  country's  history?  Everything  is  at  stake  at 
the  front,  yes,  and  even  here  at  the  North,  for  I  can  see  that 
papa  dreads  unspeakably  what  each  day  may  bring  forth, 
yet  neither  this  terrible  emergency  nor  the  hope  of  winning 
my  love  can  brace  his  timid  soul  to  manly  action.  There  is 
more  manhood  in  one  drop  of  the  blood  shed  by  Captain 
Lane  than  in  Merwyn's  whole  shrinking  body ." 


284  AX    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


M 


CHAPTER   XXX 

THE     NORTH     INVADED 

ERWYN  could  scarcely  have  believed  that  he  had 
sank  so  low  in  Marian's  estimation  as  her  words 
at  the  close  of  the  previous  chapter  indicated,  yet 
he  guessed  clearly  the  drift  of  her  opinion  in  regard  to  him, 
and  he  saw  no  way  of  righting  himself.  In  the  solitude  of 
his  country  home  he  considered  and  dismissed  several  plans 
of  action.  He  thought  of  offering  his  services  to  the  Sani- 
tary Commission,  but  his  pride  prevented,  for  he  knew  that 
she  and  others  would  ask  why  a  man  of  his  youth  and 
strength  sought  a  service  in  which  sisters  of  charity  could 
be  his  equals  in  efficiency.  He  also  saw  that  joiniDg  a 
regiment  of  the  city  militia  was  but  a  half-way  measure 
that  might  soon  lead  to  the  violation  of  his  oath,  since 
these  regiments  could  be  ordered  to  the  South  in  case  of 
an  emergency. 

The  prospect  before  him  was  that  of  a  thwarted,  blighted 
life.  He  might  live  till  he  was  gray,  but  in  every  waking 
moment  he  would  remember  that  he  had  lost  his  chance  for 
manly  action,  when  such  action  would  have  brought  him 
self-respect,  very  possibly  happiness,  and  certainly  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  had  served  a  cause  which  now  enlisted  all 
his  sympathies. 

At  last  he  wrote  to  his  mother  an  impassioned  appeal  to 
be  released  from  his  oath,  assuring  her  that  he  would  never 
have  any  part  in  the  Southern  empire  that  was  the  dream  of 
her  life.     He  cherished  the  hope  that  she,  seeing  how  unal- 


THE   NORTH   INVADED  285 

terable  were  his  feelings  and  purposes,  would  yield  to  him 
the  right  to  follow  his  own  convictions,  and  with  this  kin- 
dling hope  his  mind  grew  calmer. 

Then,  as  reason  began  to  assert  itself,  he  saw  that  he 
had  been  absent  from  the  city  too  long  already.  His  pride 
counselled:  44The  world  has  no  concern  with  your  affairs, 
disappointments,  or  sufferings.  Be  your  father's  son,  and 
maintain  your  position  with  dignity.  In  a  few  short  weeks 
you  may  be  free.  If  not,  your  secret  is  your  own,  and  no 
living  soul  can  gossip  about  your  family  affairs,  or  say  that 
you  betrayed  your  word  or  your  family  interests.  Mean- 
while, in  following  the  example  of  thousands  of  other  rich 
and  patriotic  citizens,  you  can  contribute  more  to  the  suc- 
cess of  the  Union  cause  than  if  you  were  in  the  field." 

He  knew  that  this  course  might  not  secure  him  the  favor 
of  one  for  whom  he  would  face  every  danger  in  the  world, 
but  it  might  tend  to  disarm  criticism  and  give  him  the  best 
chances  for  the  future. 

He  at  once  carried  out  his  new  purposes,  and  early  in 
June  returned  to  his  city  home.  He  now  resolved  no  longer 
to  shrink  and  hide,  but  to  keep  his  own  counsel,  and  face 
the  situation  like  one  who  had  a  right  to  choose  his  own 
career.  Mr.  Bodoin,  his  legal  adviser,  received  the  impres- 
sion that  he  had  been  quietly  looking  after  his  country  prop- 
erty, and  the  lawyer  rubbed  his  bloodless  hands  in  satisfac- 
tion over  a  youthful  client  so  entirely  to  his  mind. 

Having  learned  more  fully  what  his  present  resources 
were,  Merwyn  next  called  on  Mr.  Vosburgh  at  his  office. 
That  gentleman  greeted  the  young  man  courteously,  dis- 
guising his  surprise  and  curiosity. 

"I  have  just  returned  from  my  country  place,"  Merwyn 
began,  "and  shall  not  have  to  go  there  very  soon  again. 
Can  I  call  upon  you  as  usual  ?' ' 

"Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Vosburgh;  but  there  was  no 
warmth  in  his  tone. 

"I  have  also  a  favor  to  ask,"  resumed  Merwyn,  with  a 
slight  deepening  of  color  in  his  bronzed  face.     "I  have  not 


286  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

been  able  to  follow  events  very  closely,  but  so  far  as  I  can 
judge  there  is  a  prospect  of  severe  battles  and  of  sudden 
emergencies.  If  there  is  need  of  money,  such  means  as  I 
have  are  at  your  disposal." 

Eve  a  Mr.  Yos  burgh,  at  the  moment,  felt  much  of  Mar- 
ian's repulsion  as  he  looked  at  the  tall  youth,  with  his 
superb  physique,  who  spoke  of  severe  battles  and  offered 
"money."  "Truly,"  he  thought,  "she  must  be  right. 
This  man  will  part  with  thousands  rather  than  risk  one 
drop  of  blood." 

But  he  was  too  good  a  patriot  to  reveal  his  impression, 
and  said,  earnestly:  "You  are  right,  Mr.  Merwyn.  There 
will  be  heavy  fighting  soon,  and  all  the  aid  that  you  can 
give  the  Sanitary  and  Christian  Commissions  will  tend  to 
save  life  and  relieve  suffering." 

Under  the  circumstances  he  felt  that  he  could  not  use 
any  of  the  young  man's  money,  even  as  a  temporary  loan, 
although  at  times  the  employment  of  a  few  extra  hundreds 
might  aid  him  greatly  in  his  work. 

Merwyn  went  away  chilled  and  saddened  anew,  yet  feel- 
ing that  his  reception  had  been  all  that  he  had  a  right  to 
expect. 

There  had  been  no  lack  of  politeness  on  Mr.  Vosburgh's 
part,  but  his  manner  had  not  been  that  of  a  friend. 

"He  has  recognized  that  I  am  under  some  secret  re- 
straint," Merwyn  thought,  "and  distrusts  me  at  last.  He 
probably  thinks,  with  his  daughter,  that  I  am  afraid  to  go. 
Oh  that  I  had  a  chance  to  prove  that  I  am,  at  least,  not  a 
coward !  In  some  way  I  shall  prove  it  before  many  weeks 
pass." 

At  dinner,  that  evening,  Mr.  Vosburgh  smiled  signifi- 
cantly at  Marian,  and  said,  "Who  do  you  think  called  on 
me  to-day?" 

"Mr.  Merwyn,"  she  said,  promptly. 

"You  are  right.     He  came  to  offer— " 

"Money,"  contemptuously  completing  her  father's  sen- 
tence. 


THE    NORTH    INVADED  287 

''You  evidently  think  you  understand  him.  Perhaps 
you  do;  and  I  admit  that  I  felt  much  as  you  do,  to-day, 
when  he  offered  his  purse  to  the  cause.  I  fear,  however, 
that  we  are  growing  a  little  morbid  on  this  subject,  and  in- 
clined to  judgments  too  severe.  You  and  I  have  become 
like  so  many  in  the  South.  This  conflict  and  its  results  are 
everything  to  us,  and  we  forget  that  we  are  surrounded  by 
hundreds  of  thousands  who  are  loyal,  but  are  not  ready  for 
very  great  sacrifices." 

"We  are  also  surrounded  by  millions  that  are,  and  I 
cast  in  my  lot  with  these.  If  this  is  to  be  morbid,  we  have 
plenty  of  company."' 

"What  I  mean  is,  that  we  may  be  too  hard  upon  those 
who  do  not  feel,  and  perhaps  are  not  capable  of  feeling,  as 
we  do.r* 

"Oh,  papa!  you  know  the  reason  why  Mr.  Merwyn  takes 
the  course  he  does." 

"I  know  what  you  think  to  be  the  reason,  and  you  may 
be  right.  Your  explanation  struck  me  with  more  force  than 
ever  to-day;  and  yet,  looking  into  the  young  fellow's  face, 
it  seems  impossible.  He  impresses  me  strangely,  and  awak- 
ens much  curiosity  as  to  his  future  course.  He  asked  if  he 
could  call  as  usual,  and  I,  with  ordinary  politeness,  said, 
'Certainly.'  Indeed,  there  was  a  dignity  about  the  fellow 
that  almost  compelled  the  word.  I  don't  know  that  we 
have  any  occasion  to  regret  it.  He  has  done  nothing  to 
forfeit  mere  courtesy  courtesy  on  our  part." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Marian,  discontentedly;  "but  he  irritates 
me.  I  wish  I  had  never  known  him,  and  that  I  might  never 
meet  him  again.  I  am  more  and  more  convinced  that  my 
theory  about  him  is  correct,  and  while  I  pity  him  sincerely, 
the  ever-present  consciousness  of  his  fatal  defect  is  more  dis- 
tressing— perhaps  I  should  say,  annoying — than  if  he  pre- 
sented some  strong  physical  deformity.  He  is  such  a  superb 
and  mocking  semblance  of  a  man  that  I  cannot  even  think 
of  him  without  exasperation." 

"Well,  my  dear,  perhaps  this  is  one  of  the  minor  sacri* 


288  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

fices  that  we  must  make  for  the  cause.  Until  Merwyn  can 
explain  for  himself,  he  has  no  right  to  expect  from  us  more 
than  politeness.  "While  1  would  not  take  from  him  a  loan 
for  my  individual  work,  I  can  induce  him  to  give  much  ma- 
terial help.  In  aiding  Strahan,  and  in  other  ways,  he  has 
done  a  great  deal,  and  he  is  willing  to  do  more.  The  pros- 
pects are  that  everything  will  be  needed,  and  I  do  not  feel 
like  alienating  one  dollar  or  one  bit  of  influence.  Accord- 
ing to  your  theory  his  coarse  is  due  to  infirmity  rather  than 
to  fault,  and  so  he  should  be  tolerated,  since  he  is  doing  the 
best  he  can.  Politeness  to  him  will  not  compromise  either 
our  principles  or  ourselves." 

"Well,  papa,  I  will  do  my  best;  but  if  he  had  a  particle 
of  my  intuition  he  would  know  how  I  feel.  Indeed,  I  be- 
lieve he  does  know  in  some  degree,  and  it  seems  to  me  that, 
if  I  were  a  man,  I  couldn't  face  a  woman  while  she  enter- 
tained such  an  opinion." 

"Perhaps  the  knowledge  that  you  are  wrong  enables  him 
to  face  you. ' ' 

"If  that  were  true  he  wouldn't  be  twenty-four  hours  in 
proving  it." 

"Well,"  said  her  father,  with  a  grim  laugh,  and  in  a  low 
voice,  "he  may  soon  have  a  chance  to  show  his  mettle  with- 
out going  to  the  front.  Marian,  I  wish  you  would  join  your 
mother.  The  city  is  fairly  trembling  with  suppressed  dis- 
loyalty. If  Lee  marches  northward  I  shall  fear  an  explo- 
sion at  any  time." 

"Leave  the  city!"  said  the  young  girl,  hotly.  "That 
would  prove  that  I  possess  the  same  traits  that  repel  me  so 
strongly  in  Mr.  Merwyn.  No,  I  shall  not  leave  your  side 
this  summer,  unless  you  compel  me  to  almost  by  force. 
Have  we  not  recently  heard  of  two  Southern  girls  who 
cheered  on  their  friends  in  battle  with  bullets  flying 
around  them?  After  witnessing  that  scene,  I  should 
make  a  pitiable  figure  in  Captain  Lane's  eyes  should  I 
seek  safety  in  flight  at  the  mere  thought  of  danger.  I 
should  die  with   shame." 


THE   NORTH   INVADED  289 

"It  is  well  Captain  Lane  does  not  hear  you,  or  the  sur- 
geon would  have  fever  to  contend  with,  as  well  as  wounds." 

"Oh  dear!"  cried  the  girl.  "I  wish  we  could  hear  from 
him." 

Mr.  Vosburgh  had  nearly  reached  the  conclusion  that  if 
the  captain  survived  the  vicissitudes  of  the  war  he  would 
not  plead  a  second  time  in  vain. 

A  few  evenings  later  Merwyn  called.  Mr.  Vosburgh 
was  out,  and  others  were  in  the  drawing-room.  Marian 
did  not  have  much  to  say  to  him,  but  treated  him  with 
her  old,  distant  politeness.  He  felt  her  manner,  and  saw 
the  gulf  that  lay  between  them,  but  no  one  unacquainted 
with  the  past  would  have  recognized  any  lack  of  courtesy 
on  her  part. 

Among  the  exciting  topics  broached  was  the  possibility 
of  a  counter-revolution  at  the  North.  Merwyn  noticed  that 
Marian  was  reticent  in  regard  to  her  father  and  his  opinions, 
but  he  was  startled  to  hear  her  say  that  she  would  not  be 
surprised  if  violent  outbreaks  of  disloyalty  took  place  any 
hour,  and  he  recognized  her  courage  in  remaining  in  the 
city.  One  of  the  callers,  an  officer  in  the  Seventh  Regi- 
ment, also  spoke  of  the  possibility  of  all  the  militia  being 
ordered  away  to  aid  in  repelling  invasion. 

Merwyn  listened  attentively,  but  did  not  take  a  very  ac- 
tive part  in  the  conversation,  and  went  away  with  the  words 
"counter-revolution1'  and  "invasion"  ringing  in  his  ears. 

He  became  a  close  student  of  the  progress  of  events,  and, 
with  his  sensitiveness  in  regard  to  the  Vosburghs,  adopted 
a  measure  that  taxed  his  courage.  A  day  or  two  later  he 
called  on  Mr.  Vosburgh  at  his  office,  and  asked  him  out  to 
lunch,  saying  that  he  was  desirous  of  obtaining  some  infor- 
mation. 

Mr.  Vosburgh  complied  readily,  for  he  wished  to  give 
the  young  man  every  chance  to  right  himself,  and  he  could 
not  disguise  the  fact  that  he  felt  a  peculiar  interest  in  the 
problem  presented  by  his  daughter's  unfortunate  suitor. 
Merwyn  was  rather  maladroit  in  accounting  for  his  ques- 

B?e— VI— 13 


290  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

tions  in  regard  to  the  results  of  a  counter-revolution,  and 
gave  the  impression  that  he  was  solicitous  about  his 
property. 

Convinced  that  his  entertainer  was  loyal  from  conviction 
and  feeling,  as  well  as  from  the  nature  of  his  pecuniary  in- 
terests, Mr.  Vosburgh  spoke  quite  freely  of  the  dangerous 
elements  rapidly  developing  at  the  North,  and  warned  his 
host  that,  in  his  opinion,  the  critical  period  of  the  struggle 
was  approaching.  Merwyn's  grave,  troubled  face  and  ex- 
treme reticence  in  respect  to  his  own  course  made  an  unfa- 
vorable impression,  yet  he  was  acting  characteristically. 
Trammelled  as  he  was,  he  could  not  speak  according  to  his 
natural  impulses.  He  felt  that  grave  words,  not  enforced 
by  corresponding  action,  would  be  in  wretched  taste,  and 
his  hope  was  that  by  deeds  he  could  soon  redeem  himself. 
If  there  was  a  counter-revolution  he  could  soon  find  a  post 
of  danger  without  wearing  the  uniform  of  a  soldier  or  step- 
ping on  Southern  soil,  but  he  was  not  one  to  boast  of  what  he 
would  do  should  such  and  such  events  take  place.  Moreover, 
before  the  month  elapsed  he  had  reason  to  believe  that  he 
would  receive  a  letter  from  his  mother  giving  him  freedom. 
Therefore,  Mr.  Vosburgh  was  left  with  all  his  old  doubts 
and  perplexities  unrelieved,  and  Marian's  sinister  theory 
was  confirmed  rather  than  weakened. 

Merwyn,  however,  was  no  longer  despondent.  The  swift 
march  of  events  might  give  him  the  opportunities  he  craved. 
He  was  too  young  not  to  seize  on  the  faintest  hope  offered 
by  the  future,  and  the  present  period  was  one  of  reaction 
from  the  deep  dejection  that,  for  a  time,  had  almost  para- 
lyzed him  in  the  country. 

Even  as  a  boy  he  had  been  a  sportsman,  and  a  good  shot 
with  gun,  rifle,  and  pistol,  but  now  he  began  to  perfect  him- 
selt  in  the  use  of  the  last-named  weapon.  He  arranged  the 
basement  of  his  house  in  such  a  way  that  he  could  practice 
with  his  revolvers,  and  he  soon  became  very  proficient  in 
the  accuracy  and  quickness  of  his  aim. 

According  to  the  press  despatches  of  the  day,  there  was 


THE    NORTH    INVADED  291 

much  uncertainty  in  regard  to  General  Lee's  movements 
and  plans.  Mr.  Vosburgh's  means  of  information  led  him 
to  believe  that  the  rebel  army  was  coming  North,  and  many 
others  shared  the  fear;  but  as  late  as  June  15,  so  skilfully 
had  the  Confederate  leader  masked  his  purposes,  that,  ac- 
cording to  the  latest  published  news,  the  indications  were 
that  he  intended  to  cross  the  Rappahannock  near  Culpepper 
and  inaugurate  a  campaign  similar  to  the  one  that  had 
proved  so  disastrous  to  the  Union  cause  the  preceding 
summer. 

On  the  morning  of  the  16th,  however,  the  head-lines  of 
the  leading  journals  startled  the  people  through  the  North. 
The  rebel  advance  had  occupied  Chambersburg,  Pa.  The 
invasion  was  an  accomplished  fact.  The  same  journals  con- 
tained a  call  from  the  President  for  100,000  militia,  of  which 
the  State  of  New  York  was  to  furnish  20,000.  The  excite- 
ment in  Pennsylvania  was  intense,  for  not  only  her  capital, 
but  her  principal  towns  and  cities  were  endangered.  The 
thick-flying  rumors  of  the  past  few  days  received  terrible 
confirmation,  and,  while  Lee's  plans  were  still  shrouded  in 
mysterj7,  enough  was  known  to  awaken  apprehension,  while 
the  very  uncertainty  proved  the  prolific  source  of  the  most 
exaggerated  and  direful  stories.  There  was  immense  activ- 
ity at  the  various  armories,  and  many  regiments  of  the  city 
militia  expected  orders  to  depart  at  any  hour.  The  me- 
tropolis was  rocking  with  excitement,  and  wherever  men 
congregated  there  were  eager  faces  and  excited  tones. 

Behind  his  impassive  manner,  when  he  appeared  in  the 
street,  no  one  disguised  deeper  feeling,  more  eager  hope, 
more  sickening  fear,  than  Willard  Merwyn.  When  would 
his  mother's  letter  come  ?  If  this  crisis  should  pass  and 
he  take  no  part  in  it  he  feared  that  he  himself  would  be 
lost. 

Since  his  last  call  upon  Marian  he  felt  that  he  could  not 
see  her  again  until  he  could  take  some  decided  course;  but 
if  there  were  blows  to  be  struck  by  citizens  at  the  North, 
or  if  his  mother's  letter  acceded  to  his  wish,  however  grudg= 


292  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ingly,  he  could  act  at  once,  and  on  each  new  day  he  awoke 
with  the  hope  that  he  might  be  unchained  before  its 
close. 

The  17th  of  June  was  a  memorable  day.  The  morning 
press  brought  confirmation  of  Lee's  northward  advance. 
The  men  of  the  Quaker  City  were  turning  out  en  masse, 
either  to  carry  the  musket  or  for  labor  on  fortifications, 
and  it  was  announced  that  twelve  regiments  of  the  New 
York  militia  were  under  marching  orders.  The  invasion 
was  the  one  topic  of  conversation.  There  was  an  immense 
revival  of  patriotism,  and  recruiting  at  the  armories  went 
on  rapidly.  At  this  outburst  of  popular  feeling  disloyalty 
shrank  out  of  sight  for  a  time,  and  apparently  the  invaders 
who  had  come  north  as  allies  of  the  peace  party  created  an 
uprising,  as  they  had  expected,  but  it  was  hostile  to  them. 

The  people  were  reminded  of  the  threats  of  the  Southern 
leaders.  The  speech  of  Jeff  Davis  in  the  winter  of  1860-61 
was  quoted:  tlIf  war  should  result  from  secession,  it  will 
not  be  our  fields  that  will  witness  its  ravages,  but  those 
of  the  North." 

The  fact  that  this  prediction  was  already  fulfilled  stung 
even  the  half-hearted  into  action,  and  nerved  the  loyalty  of 
others,  and  when  it  became  known  that  the  gallant  Seventh 
.Regiment  would  march  down  Broadway  en  route  for  Penn- 
sylvania at  noon,  multitudes  lined  the  thoroughfare  and 
greeted  their  defenders  with  acclamations. 

Merwyn  knew  that  Marian  would  witness  the  departure, 
and  he  watched  in  the  distance  till  he  saw  her  emerge  from 
her  home  and  go  to  a  building  on  Broadway  in  which  her 
father  had  secured  her  a  place.  She  was  attended  by  an 
officer  clad  in  the  uniform  of  a  service  so  dear  to  her,  but 
which  he  had  sworn  never  to  wear.  He  hastily  secured  a 
point  of  observation  in  a  building  opposite,  for  while  the 
vision  of  the  young  girl  awakened  almost  desperate  revolt 
at  his  lot,  he  could  not  resist  a  lover's  impulse  to  see  her. 
Pale,  silent,  absorbed,  he  saw  her  wave  her  handkerchief 
and  smile  at  her  friends  as  they  passed;  he  saw  a  white- 


THE    NORTH    INVADED  293 

haired  old  lady  reach  out  her  hands  in  yearning  love,  an 
eloquent  pantomime  that  indicated  that  her  sons  were 
marching  under  her  eyes,  and  then  she  sank  back  into 
Marian's  arms. 

"Oh,"    groaned  Merwyn,    "if   that  were  my   mother  I 
could  give  her  a  love  that  would  be  almost  worship." 


294  Afl    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
•'i've  lost  my  chance" 

DURING  the  remainder  of  the  17th  of  June  fcnd  for 
the  next  few  days,  the  militia  regiments  of  New 
York  and  Brooklyn  were  departing  for  the  seat 
of  war.  The  city  was  filled  with  conflicting  rumors.  On 
the  19th  it  was  said  that  the  invaders  were  returning  to 
Virginia.  The  questions  "Where  is  Lee,  and  what  are  his 
purposes  ?  and  what  is  the  army  of  the  Potomac  about  ?' ' 
were  upon  all  lips. 

On  the  20th  came  the  startling  tidings  of  organized  re- 
sistance to  the  draft  in  Ohio,  and  of  troops  fired  upon  by 
the  mob.  Mr.  Vosburgh  frowned  heavily  as  he  read  the 
account  at  the  breakfast-table  and  said:  "The  test  of  my 
fears  will  come  when  the  conscription  begins  in  this  city, 
and  it  may  come  much  sooner.  I  wish  you  to  join  your 
mother  before  that  day,  Marian!" 

"No,"  she  said,  quietly— "not  unless  you  compel  me  to." 

k'I  may  be  obliged  to  use  my  authority,"  said  her  father, 
after  some  thought.  "My  mind  is  oppressed  by  a  phase  of 
danger  not  properly  realized.  The  city  is  being  stripped 
of  its  loyal  regiments,  and  every  element  of  mischief  is  left 
behind." 

"Papa,  I  entreat  you  not  to  send  me  away  while  you 
remain.  I  assure  you  that  such  a  course  would  involve  far 
greater  danger  to  me  than  staying  with  you.  even  though 
your  fears  should  be  realized.  If  the  worst  should  happen, 
1  might  escape  all  harm.  If  you  do  what  you  threaten,  I 
could  not  escape  a  wounded  spirit." 


■VTFJS   LOST  MY    CHAXCE"  295 

"Well,  my  dear,-'  said  her  father,  gently,  "I  appreciate 
your  courage  and  devotion,  and  I  should  indeed  miss  you. 
We'll  await  further  developments." 

Day  after  day  passed,  bringing  no  definite  information. 
There  were  reports  of  severe  cavalry  fighting  in  Virginia, 
but  the  position  of  the  main  body  of  Lee's  army  was  still 
practically  unknown  to  the  people  at  large.  On  the  22d, 
a  leading  journal  said,  "The  public  must,  with  patience, 
await  events  in  Virginia,  and  remain  in  ignorance  until 
some  decisive  point  is  reached"  ;  and  on  the  24th,  the  head- 
lines of  the  press  read,  in  effect,  "Not  much  of  importance 
from  Pennsylvania  yesterday."  The  intense  excitement 
caused  by  the  invasion  was  subsiding.  People  could  not 
exist  at  the  first  fever-heat.  It  was  generally  believed  that 
Hooker's  army  had  brought  Lee  to  a  halt,  and  that  the  two 
commanders  were  manoeuvring  for  positions.  The  fact  was 
that  the  Confederates  had  an  abundance  of  congenial  occu- 
pation in  sending  southward  to  their  impoverished  commis- 
sary department  the  immense  booty  they  were  gathering 
among  the  rich  farms  and  towns  of  Pennsylvania.  Hooker 
was  seeking,  by  the  aid  of  his  cavalry  force  and  scouts,  to 
penetrate  his  opponent's  plans,  meanwhile  hesitating  whether 
to  fall  on  the  rebel  communications  in  their  rear,  or  to  follow 
northward. 

Lee  and  his  great  army,  flushed  with  recent  victories, 
were  not  all  that  Hooker  had  to  contend  with,  but  there 
was  a  man  in  Washington,  whose  incapacity  and  ill-will 
threatened  even  more  fatal  difficulties.  General  Halleck, 
Commander-in-Chief,  hung  on  the  Union  leader  like  the 
"Old  Man  of  the  Sea."  He  misled  the  noble  President, 
who,  as  a  civilian,  was  ignorant  of  military  affairs,  para- 
lyzed tens  of  thousands  of  troops  by  keeping  them  where 
they  could  be  of  no  practical  use,  and  by  giving .  them 
orders  of  which  General  Hooker  was  not  informed.  The 
Comte  de  Paris  writes,  "Lee's  projects  could  not  have 
been  more  efficiently  subserved, "  and  the  disastrous  defeat 
of  General  Milroy  confirms  these  words.     It  was  a  repetition 


296  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

of  the  old  story  of  General  Miles  of  the  preceding  year,  with 
the  difference  that  Milroy  was  a  gallant,  loyal  man,  who  did 
all  that  a  skilful  officer  could  accomplish  to  avert  the  results 
of  his  superior's  blundering  and  negligence. 

Hooker  was  goadeci  into  resigning,  and  of  the  army  of 
the  Potomac  the  gifted  French  author  again  writes,  "Every 
thing  seemed  to  conspire  against  it,  even  the  government, 
whose  last  hope  it  was";  adding  later:  "Out  of  the  97,000 
men  thus  divided  (at  Washington,  Frederick,  Fortress  Mon- 
roe, and  neighboring  points)  there  were  40,000  perfectly  use- 
less where  they  were  stationed,  that  might  have  been  added 
to  the  army  of  the  Potomac  before  the  1st  of  July.  Thus 
re-enforced,  the  Union  general  could  have  been  certain  of 
conquering  his  adversary,  and  even  of  inflicting  upon  him 
an  irreparable  disaster." 

The  fortunes  of  the  North  were  indeed  trembling  in  the 
balance.  We  had  to  cope  with  the  ablest  general  of  the 
South  and  his  great  army,  with  the  peace  (?)  faction  that 
threatened  bloody  arguments  in  the  loyal  States,  and  with 
General  Halleck. 

The  people  were  asking:  "Where  is  the  army  of  the 
Potomac?  What  can  it  be  doing,  that  the  invasion  goes 
on  so  long  unchecked?"  At  Gettysburg  this  patient,  long- 
suffering  army  gave  its  answer. 

Meanwhile  the  North  was  brought  face  to  face  with  the 
direst  possibilities,  and  its  fears,  which  history  has  proved 
to  be  just,  were  aroused  to  the  last  degree.  The  lull  in  the 
excitement  which  had  followed  the  first  startling  announce- 
ment of  invasion  was  broken  by  the  wildest  rumors  and  the 
sternest  facts.  The  public  pulse  again  rose  to  fever-heat. 
Farmers  were  flying  into  Harrisburg,  before  the  advancing 
enemy;  merchants  were  packing  their  goods  for  shipment 
to  the  North;  and  the  panic  was  so  general  that  the  propo- 
sition was  made  to  stop  forcibly  the  flight  of  able-bodied 
men  from  the  Pennsylvanian  capital. 

As  Mr.  Vosburgh  read  these  despatches  in  the  morning 
paper,  Marian  smiled  satirically,  and  said:  "You  think  that 


"I'VE   LOST   MY   CHANCE"  297 

Mr.  Merwyn  is  under  some  powerful  restraint.  I  doubt 
whether  he  would  be  restrained  from  going  north,  should 
danger  threaten  this  city. ' ' 

And  many  believed,  with  good  reason,  that  New  York 
City  was  threatened.  Major-General  Doubleday,  in  his 
clear,  vigorous  account  of  this  campaign  writes:  "Union 
spies  who  claimed  to  have  counted  the  rebel  forces  as  they 
passed  through  Hagerstown  made  their  number  to  be  91,000 
infantry  and  280  guns.  This  statement,  though  exaggerated, 
gained  great  credence,  and  added  to  the  excitement  of  the 
loyal  people  throughout  the  Northern  States,  while  the  dis- 
loyal element  was  proportionately  active  and  jubilant." 
Again  he  writes :  ' l  There  was  wild  commotion  throughout  the 
North,  and  people  began  to  feel  that  the  boast  of  the  Georgia 
Senator,  Toombs,  that  he  would  call  the  roll  of  his  slaves  at 
the  foot  of  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  might  soon  be  realized. 
The  enemy  seemed  very  near  and  the  army  of  the  Potomac 
far  away."  Again:  "The  Southern  people  were  bent  upon 
nothing  else  than  the  entire  subjugation  of  the  North  and 
the  occupation  of  our  principal  cities." 

These  statements  of  sober  history  are  but  the  true  echoes 
of  the  loud  alarms  of  the  hour.  On  the  morning  of  the  26th 
of  June,  such  words  as  these  were  printed  as  the  leading 
editorial  of  the  New  York  Tribune:  "The  rebels  are  coming 
North.  All  doubt  seems  at  length  dispelled.  Men  of  the 
North,  Pennsylvanians,  Jerseymen,  New  Yorkers,  New 
Englanders,  the  foe  is  at  your  doors !  Are  you  true  men  or 
traitors  ?  brave  men  or  cowards  ?  If  you  are  patriots,  re- 
solved and  deserving  to  be  free,  prove  it  by  universal  rally- 
ing, arming,  and  marching  to  meet  the  foe.     Prove  it  now  /" 

Marian,  with  flashing  eyes  and  glowing  cheeks,  read  to 
her  father  this  brief  trumpet  call,  and  then  exclaimed: 
"Yes,  the  issue  is  drawn  so  sharply  now  that  no  loyal  man 
can  hesitate,  and  to-day  Mr.  Merwyn  cannot  help  answering 
the  question,  'Are  you  a  brave  man  or  a  coward  ?'  0  papa, 
to  think  that  a  man  should  be  deaf  to  such  an  appeal  and 
shrink  in  such  an  emergency!" 


298  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

At  that  very  hour  Merwyn  sat  alone  in  his  elegant  home, 
his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  the  very  picture  of  dejection. 
Before  him  on  the  table  lay  the  journal  from  which  he  had 
read  the  same  words  which  Marian  had  applied  to  him  in 
bitter  scorn.  An  open  letter  was  also  upon  the  table,  and 
its  contents  had  slain  his  hope.  Mrs.  Merwyn  had  an- 
swered his  appeal  characteristically.  "You  evidently  need 
my  presence,"  she  wrote,  "yet  I  will  never  believe  that 
you  can  violate  your  oath,  unless  your  reason  is  dethroned. 
When  you  forget  that  you  have  sworn  by  your  father's 
memory  and  your  mother's  honor,  you  must  be  wrecked 
indeed.  I  wonder  at  your  blindness  to  your  own  interests, 
and  can  see  in  it  the  influence  which,  in  all  the  past,  has 
made  some  weak  men  reckless  and  forgetful  of  everything 
except  an  unworthy  passion.  The  armies  of  your  Northern 
friends  have  been  defeated  again  and  again.  I  have  means 
of  communication  with  my  Southern  friends,  and  before 
the  summer  is  over  our  gallant  leaders  will  dictate  peace 
in  the  city  where  you  dwell.  What  then  would  become  of 
the  property  which  you  so  value,  were  it  not  for  my  influ- 
ence ?  My  hope  still  is,  that  your  infatuation  will  pass  away 
with  your  youth,  and  that  your  mind  will  become  clear,  so 
that  you  can  appreciate  the  future  that  might  be  yours. 
If  I  can  only  protect  you  against  yourself  and  designing 
people,  all  may  yet  be  well;  and  when  our  glorious  South 
takes  the  foremost  place  among  the  nations  of  the  earth, 
my  influence  will  be  such  that  I  can  still  obtain  for  you 
rank  and  title,  unless  you  now  compromise  yourself  by 
some  unutterable  fully.  The  crisis  is  approaching  fast, 
and  the  North  will  soon  learn  that,  so  far  from  subduing 
the  South,  it  will  be  subjugated  and  will  gladly  accept 
such  terms  as  we  may  deem  it  best  to  give.  I  have  ful- 
filled my  mission  here.  The  leading  classes  are  with  us  in 
sympathy,  and  it  will  require  but  one  or  two  more  victories 
like  that  of  Chancellorsville  to  make  England  our  open 
ally.  Then  people  of  our  birth  and  wealth  will  be  the 
equals  of  the  English  aristocracy,  and  your  career  can  be 


"FVE   LOST  MY    CHANCE"  29V 

as  lofty  as  you  ohoose  to  make  it.  Then,  with  a  gratitude 
beyond  words,  you  will  thank  me  for  my  firmness,  for  you 
can  aspire  to  the  highest  positions  in  an  empire  such  as  the 
world  has  not  seen  before." 

"No,"  said  Merwyn,  sternly,  "if  there  is  a  free  State 
left  at  the  North,  I  will  work  there  with  my  own  hands  for 
a  livelihood,  rather  than  have  any  part  or  lot  in  this 
Southern  empire.  Yet  what  can  I  ever  appear  to  be  but 
a  shrinking  coward  ?  An  owner  of  slaves  all  her  life,  my 
mother  has  made  a  slave  of  me.  She  has  fettered  my  very 
soul.  Oh!  if  there  are  to  be  outbreaks  at  the  North,  let 
them  come  soon,  or  I  shall  die  under  the  weight  of  my 
chains." 

The  dark  tide  of  invasion  rose  higher  and  higher.  At 
last  the  tidings  came  that  Lee's  whole  army  was  in  Penn- 
sylvania, that  Harrisburg  would  be  attacked  before  night, 
and  that  the  enemy  were  threatening  Columbia  on  the  north- 
ern bank  of  the  Susquehanna,  and  would  have  crossed  the 
immense  bridge  which  there  spans  the  river,  had  it  not 
been  burned. 

On  the  27th,  the  Tribune  contained  the  following  edi- 
torial words:  "Now  is  the  hour.  Pennsylvania  is  at  length 
arousing,  we  trust  not  too  late.  We  plead  with  the  entire 
North  to  rush  to  the  rescue;  the  whole  North  is  menaced 
through  this  invasion.  If  we  do  not  stop  it  at  the  Susque- 
hanna, it  will  soon  strike  us  on  the  Delaware,  then  on  the 
Hudson." 

"My  chance  is  coming,"  Merwyn  muttered,  grimly,  as 
he  read  these  words.  "If  the  answering  counter-revolution 
does  not  begin  during  the  next  few  days,  I  shall  take  my 
rifle  and  fight  as  a  citizen  as  long  as  there  is  a  rebel  left  on 
Northern  soil." 

The  eyes  of  others  were  turned  toward  Pennsylvania;  he 
scanned  the  city  in  which  he  dwelled.  He  had  abandoned 
all  morbid  brooding,  and  sought  by  every  means  in  his 
power  to  inform  himself  in  regard  to  the  seething,  disloyal 
elements  that  were  now  manifesting  themselves.     From  what 


300  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Mr.  Vosburgh  had  told  him,  and  from  what  he  had  dis- 
covered himself,  he  felt  that  any  hour  might  witness 
bloody  co-operation  at  his  very  door  with  the  army  of 
invasion. 

"Should  this  take  place,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  paced  his 
room,  "oh,  that  it  might  be  my  privilege,  before  I  died,  to 
perform  some  deed  that  would  convince  Marian  Vosburgh 
that  I  am  not  what  she  thinks  me  to  be!" 

Each  new  day  brought  its  portentous  news.  On  the  30th 
of  June,  there  were  accounts  of  intense  excitement  at  Wash- 
ington and  Baltimore,  for  the  enemy  had  appeared  almost 
at  the  suburbs  of  these  cities.  In  Baltimore,  women  rushed 
into  the  streets  and  besought  protection.  New  York  throbbed 
and  rocked  with  kindred  excitement. 

On  July  3d,  the  loyal  Tribune  again  sounded  the  note  of 
deep  alarm:  ''These  are  times  that  try  men's  souls!  The 
peril  of  our  country's  overthrow  is  great  and  imminent. 
The  triumph  of  the  rebels  distinctly  and  unmistakably 
involves  the  downfall  of  republican  and  representative 
institutions." 

By  a  strange  anomaly  multitudes  of  the  poor,  the  op- 
pressed in  other  lands,  whose  hope  for  the  future  was  bound 
up  in  the  cause  of  the  North,  were  arrayed  against  it. 
Their  ignorance  made  them  dupes  and  tools,  and  enemies 
of  human  rights  and  progess  were  prompt  to  use  them.  On 
the  evening  of  this  momentous  3d  of  July,  a  manifesto,  in 
the  form  of  a  handbill,  was  extensively  circulated  through- 
out the  city.  Jeff  Davis  himself  could  not  have  written  any- 
thing more  disloyal,  more  false,  of  the  Union  government 
and  its  aims,  or  better  calculated  to  incite  bloody  revolu- 
tion in  the  North. 

For  the  last  few  days  the  spirit  of  rebellion  had  been 
burning  like  a  fuse  toward  a  vast  magazine  of  human  pas- 
sion and  intense  hatred  of  Northern  measures  and  princi- 
ples. If  from  Pennsylvania  had  come  in  electric  flash  the 
words,  "Meade  defeated, "  the  explosion  would  have  come 
almost  instantly;  but  all  now  had  learned  that  the  army  of 


"I'VE    LOST   MY   CHANCE"  301 

the  Potomac  had  emerged  from  its  obscurity,  and  had  grap- 
pled with  the  invading  forces.  Even  the  most  reckless  of 
the  so-called  peace  faction  could  afford  to  wait  a  few  hours 
longer.  As  soon  as  the  shattered  columns  of  Meade's  army- 
were  in  full  retreat,  the  Northern  wing  of  the  rebellion 
could  act  with  confidence. 

The  Tribune,  in  commenting  on  the  incendiary  docu- 
ment distributed  on  the  evening  of  the  3d,  spoke  as  fol- 
lows: "That  the  more  determined  sympathizers,  in  this 
vicinity,  with  the  Southern  rebels  have,  for  months,  con- 
spired and  plotted  to  bring  about  a  revolution  is  as  certain 
as  the  Civil  War.     Had  Meade  been  defeated,"  etc. 

The  dramatic  culmination  of  this  awful  hour  of  uncer- 
tainty may  be  found  in  the  speeches,  on  July  4th,  of  ex- 
President  Franklin  Pierce,  at  Concord,  N.  H.,  and  of 
Governor  Seymour,  in  the  Academy  of  Music,  at  New 
York.  The  former  spoke  of  "the  mailed  hand  of  military 
usurpation  in  the  North,  striking  down  the  liberties  of  the 
people,  and  trampling  its  foot  on  a  desecrated  Constitu- 
tion." He  lauded  Vallandigham,  who  was  sent  South  for 
disloyalty,  as  "the  noble  martyr  of  free  speech."  He  de- 
clared the  war  to  be  fruitless,  and  exclaimed:  "You  will 
take  care  of  yourselves.  With  or  without  arms,  with  or 
without  leaders,  we  will  at  least,  in  the  effort  to  defend 
our  rights,  as  a  free  people,  build  up  a  great  mausoleum 
of  hearts,  to  which  men  who  yearn  for  liberty  will,  in  after 
years,  with  bowed  heads  reverently  resort  as  Christian  pil- 
grims to  the  shrines  of  the  Holy  Land." 

Such  were  the  shrines  with  which  this  man  would  have 
filled  New  England.  There  is  a  better  chance  now,  that  a 
new  and  loyal  Virginia  will  some  day  build  a  monument  to 
John  Brown. 

Governor  Seymour's  speech  was  similar  in  tenor,  but 
more  guarded.  In  words  of  bitter  irony  toward  the  strug- 
gling government,  whose  hands  the  peace  faction  were 
striving  to  paralyze,  he  began:  "When  I  accepted  the  in- 
vitation to  speak   with   others,   at  this   meeting,    we  were 


302  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

promised  the  downfall  of  Vicksburg,  the  opening  of  the 
Mississippi,  the  probable  capture  of  the  Confederate  capital, 
and  the  exhaustion  of  the  rebellion.  By  common  consent, 
all  parties  had  fixed  upon  this  day  when  the  results  of  the 
campaign  should  be  known.  But,  in  the  moment  of  ex- 
pected victory,  there  came  a  midnight  cry  for  help  from 
Pennsylvania,  to  save  its  despoiled  fields  from  the  invading 
foe;  and,  almost  within  sight  of  this  metropolis,  the  ships 
of  your  merchants  were  burned  to  the  water's  edge.  Parties 
are  exasperated  and  stand  in  almost  defiant  attitude  toward 
each  other." 

"At  the  very  hour, "writes  the  historian  Lossing,"when 
this  ungenerous  taunt  was  uttered,  Vicksburg  and  its  de- 
pendences and  vast  spoils,  with  more  than  thirty  thousand 
Confederate  captives,  were  in  the  possession  of  General 
Grant;  and  the  discomfited  army  of  Lee,  who,  when  that 
sentence  was  written,  was  expected  to  lead  his  troops  vic- 
toriously to  the  Delaware,  and  perhaps  to  the  Hudson,  was 
flying  from  Meade's  troops,  to  find  shelter  from  utter  de- 
struction beyond  the  Potomac." 

Barely  has  history  reached  a  more  dramatic  climax,  and 
seldom  have  the  great  scenes  of  men's  actions  been  more 
swiftly  shifted. 

Merwyn  attended  this  great  mass-meeting,  and  was  silent 
when  the  thousands  applauded.  In  coining  out  he  saw, 
while  unobserved  himself,  Mr.  Vosburgh,  and  was  struck 
by  the  proud,  contemptuous  expression  of  his  face.  The 
government  officer  had  listened  with  a  cipher  telegram  in 
his  pocket  informing  him  of  Lee's  repulse. 

For  the  last  twenty-four  hours  Merwyn  had  watched 
almost  sleeplessly  for  the  outburst  to  take  place.  That 
strong,  confident  face  indicated  no  fears  that  it  would  ever 
take  place. 

A  few  hours  later,  he,  and  all,  heard  from  the  army  of 
the  Potomac. 

When  at  last  it  became  known  that  the  Confederate  army 
was  in  full  retreat,  and,  as  the  North  then  believed,  would 


"WE   LOST   MY    CHANCE"  303 

be  either  captured  or  broken  into  flying  fragments  before 
reaching  Virginia,  Merwyn  faced  what  he  believed  to  be 
his  fate. 

•"The  country  is  saved,"  he  said.  "There  will  be  no 
revolution  at  the  North.  Thank  God  for  the  sake  of  others, 
but  I've  lost  my  chance." 


* 


804  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

BLAUVELT 

IN  JUNE,  especially  during  the  latter  part  of  the  month, 
Strahan  and  Blauvelt's  letters  to  Marian  had  been  brief 
and  infrequent.  The  duties  of  the  young  officers  were 
heavy,  and  their  fatigues  great.  They  could  give  her  little 
information  forecasting  the  future.  Indeed,  General  Hooker 
himself  could  not  have  done  this,  for  all  was  in  uncertainty. 
Lee  must  be  found  and  fought,  and  all  that  any  one  knew 
was  that  the  two  great  armies  would  eventually  meet  in  the 
decisive  battle  of  the  war. 

The  patient,  heroic  army  of  the  Potomac,  often  defeated, 
but  never  conquered,  was  between  two  dangers  that  can  be 
scarcely  overestimated,  the  vast,  confident  hosts  of  Lee  in 
Pennsylvania,  and  Halleck  in  Washington.  General  Hooker 
was  hampered,  interfered  with,  deprived  of  re-enforcements 
that  were  kept  in  idleness  elsewhere,  and  at  last  relieved  of 
command  on  the  eve  of  battle,  because  he  asked  that  11,000 
men,  useless  at  Harper's  Ferry,  might  be  placed  under  his 
orders.  That  this  was  a  mere  pretext  for  his  removal,  and 
an  expression  of  Halleck's  ill-will,  is  proved  by  the  fact 
that  General  Meade,  his  successor,  immediately  ordered  the 
evacuation  of  Harper's  Ferry  and  was  unrestrained  and  un- 
rebuked.  Meade,  however,  did  not  unite  these  11,000  men 
to  his  army,  where  they  might  have  added  materially  to  his 
success,  but  left  them  far  in  his  rear,  a  useless,  half-way 
measure  possibly  adopted  to  avoid  displeasing  Halleck. 

It  would  seem  that  Providence  itself  assumed  the  guid 
ance  of  this  long-suffering   Union   army,  that  had  been  so 
often  led   by  incompetence  in   the  field  and  paralyzed  by 


BLAUVELT  305 

interference  at  Washington.  Even  the  philosophical  his- 
torian, the  Comte  de  Paris,  admits  this  truth  in  remark- 
able language. 

Neither  Lee  nor  Meade  knew  where  they  should  meet, 
and  had  under  consideration  various  plans  of  action,  but, 
writes  the  French  historian,  "The  fortune  of  war  cut  short 
all  these  discussions  by  bringing  the  two  combatants  into  a 
field  which  neither  had  chosen."  Again,  after  describing 
the  region  of  Gettysburg,  he  concludes:  "Such  is  the 
ground  upon  which  unforeseen  circumstances  were  about 
to  bring  the  two  armies  in  hostile  contact.  Neither  Meade 
nor  Lee  had  any  personal  knowledge  of  it." 

Once  more,  after  a  vivid  description  of  the  first  day's 
battle,  in  which  Buford  with  his  cavalry  division,  Double- 
day  with  the  First  Corps,  and  Howard  with  the  Eleventh, 
checked  the  rebel  advance,  but  at  last,  after  heroic  fight- 
ing, were  overwhelmed  and  driven  back  in  a  disorder  which 
in  some  brigades  resembled  a  rout,  the  Comte  de  Paris  rec- 
ognizes, in  the  choice  of  position  on  which  the  Union  troops 
were  rallied,  something  beyond  the  will  and  wisdom  of  man. 

"A  resistless  impulse  seems  to  spur  it  (the  rebel  army) 
on  to  battle.  It  believes  itself  invincible.  There  is  scorn 
of  its  adversary ;  nearly  all  the  Confederate  generals  have 
undergone  the  contagion.  Lee  himself,  the  grave,  impas- 
sive man,  will  some  day  acknowledge  that  he  has  allowed 
himself  to  be  influenced  by  these  common  illusions.  It 
seems  that  the  God  of  Armies  had  designated  for  the  Con- 
federates the  lists  where  the  supreme  conflict  must  take 
place:  they  cheerfully  accept  the  alternative,  without  seek- 
ing for  any  other." 

All  the  world  knows  now  that  the  position  in  the  "lists" 
thus  "designated"  to  the  Union  army  was  almost  an  equiva- 
lent for  the  thousands  of  men  kept  idle  and  useless  else- 
where. To  a  certain  extent  the  conditions  of  Fredericks- 
burg are  reversed,  and  the  Confederates,  in  turn,  must 
storm  lofty  ridges  lined  with  artillery. 

Of  those  days  of  awful  suspense,  the  3d,  4th,  and  5th  of 


306  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

July,  the  French  historian  gives  but  a  faint  idea  in  the  fol- 
lowing words:  "In  the  meanwhile,  the  North  was  anxiously 
awaiting  for  the  results  of  the  great  conflict.  Uneasiness 
and  excitement  were  perceptible  everywhere;  terror  pre- 
vailed in  all  those  places  believed  to  be  within  reach  of  the 
invaders.  Humors  and  fear  exaggerated  their  number,  and 
the  remembrance  of  their  success  caused  them  to  be  deemed 
invincible." 

When,  therefore,  the  tidings  came,  "The  rebel  army  to- 
tally defeated,"  with  other  statements  of  the  victory  too 
highly  colored,  a  burden  was  lifted  from  loyal  hearts  which 
the  young  of  this  generation  cannot  gauge;  but  with  the 
abounding  joy  and  gratitude  there  were  also,  in  the  breasts 
of  hundreds  of  thousands,  sickening  fear  and  suspense  which 
must  remain  until  the  fate  of  loved  ones  was  known. 

In  too  vivid  fancy,  wives  and  mothers  saw  a  bloody  field 
strewn  with  still  forms,  and  each  one  asked  herself,  "Could 
I  go  among  these,  might  I  not  recognize  his  features?" 

But  sorrow  and  fear  shrink  from  public  observation, 
while  joy  and  exultation  seek  open  expression.  Before 
the  true  magnitude  of  the  victory  at  Gettysburg  could  be 
realized,  came  the  knowledge  that  the  nation's  greatest  sol- 
dier, General  Grant,  had  taken  Yicksburg  and  opened  the 
Mississippi. 

Marian  saw  the  deep  gladness  in  her  father's  eyes  and 
heard  it  in  his  tones,  and,  while  she  shared  in  his  gratitude 
and  relief,  her  heart  was  oppressed  with  solicitude  for  her 
friends.  To  her,  who  had  no  near  kindred  in  the  war,  these 
young  men  had  become  almost  as  dear  as  brothers.  She 
was  conscious  of  their  deep  affection,  and  she  felt  that  there 
could  be  no  rejoicing  for  her  until  she  was  assured  of  their 
safety.  All  spoke  of  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  as  one  of  the 
most  terrific  combats  of  the  world.  Two  of  her  friends  must 
have  been  in  the  thick  of  it.  She  read  the  blood-stained 
accounts  with  paling  cheeks,  and  at  last  saw  the  words, 
"Captain  Blauvelt,  wounded;  Major  Strahan,  wounded 
and  missing." 


BLAUVELT  307 

This  was  all.  There  was  room  for  hope;  there  was  much 
cause  to  fear  the  worst.  From  Lane  there  were  no  tidings 
whatever.  She  was  oppressed  with  the  feeling  that  perhaps 
the  frank,  true  eyes  of  these  loyal  friends  might  never  again 
look  into  her  own.  With  a  chill  of  unspeakable  dread  she 
asked  herself  what  her  life  would  be  without  these  friends. 
Who  could  ever  take  their  place  or  fill  the  silence  made  by 
their  hushed  voices  ? 

Since  reading  the  details  of  the  recent  battle  her  irrita- 
tion against  Merwyn  had  passed  away,  and  she  now  felt  for 
him  only  pity.  Her  own  brave  spirit  had  been  awed  and 
overwhelmed  by  the  accounts  of  the  terrific  cannonade  and 
the  murderous  hand-to-hand  struggles.  At  night  she  would 
start  up  from  vivid  dreams  wherein  she  saw  the  field  with 
thousands  of  ghastly  faces  turned  toward  the  white  moon- 
light. In  her  belief  Merwyn  was  incapable  of  looking  upon 
such  scenes.  Therefore  why  should  she  think  of  him  with 
scorn  and  bitterness  ?  She  herself  had  never  before  real- 
ized how  terrible  they  were.  Now  that  the  dread  emer- 
gency, with  its  imperative  demand  for  manhood  and  action, 
had  passed,  her  heart  became  softened  and  chastened  with 
thoughts  of  death.  She  was  enabled  to  form  a  kinder  judg- 
ment, and  to  believe  it  very  possible  that  Merwyn,  in  the 
consciousness  of  his  weakness,  was  suffering  more  than 
many  a  wounded   man  of  sterner  mettle. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  whereon  she  had  read  the 
ominous  words  in  regard  to  her  friends,  Merwyn's  card  was 
handed  to  her,  and,  although  surprised,  she  went  down  to 
meet  him  without  hesitation.  His  motives  for  this  call  need 
brief  explanation. 

For  a  time  he  had  given  way  to  the  deepest  dejection  in 
regard  to  his  own  prospects.  There  seemed  nothing  for  him 
to  do  but  wait  for  the  arrival  of  his  mother,  whom  he  could 
not  welcome.  He  still  had  a  lingering  hope  that  when  she 
came  and  found  her  ambitious  dreams  of  Southern  victory 
dissipated,  she  might  be  induced  to  give  him  back  his  free- 
dom, and  on  this  hope  he  lived.     But.  in  the  main,  he  was 


308  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

like  one  stunned  and  paralyzed  by  a  blow,  and  for  a  time 
he  could  not  rally.  He  had  been  almost  sleepless  for  days 
from  intense  excitement  and  expectation,  and  the  reaction 
was  proportionately  great.  At  last  he  thought  of  Strahan, 
and  telegraphed  to  Mrs.  Strahan,  in  her  country  place,  ask- 
ing if  she  had  heard  from  her  son.  Soon  after  receiving  a 
negative  answer,  he  saw,  in  the  long  lists  of  casualties,  the 
brief,  vague  statement  that  Marian  had  found.  The  thought 
then  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  go  to  Gettysburg  and 
search  for  Strahan.  Anything  would  be  better  than  inac- 
tion. He  believed  that  he  would  have  time  to  go  and  re- 
turn before  his  mother's  arrival,  and,  if  he  did  not,  he  would 
leave  directions  for  her  reception.  The  prospect  of  doing 
something  dispelled  his  apathy,  and  the  hope  of  being  of 
service  to  his  friend  had  decided  attractions,  for  he  had 
now  become  sincerely  attached  to  Strahan.  He  therefore 
rapidly  made  his  preparations  to  depart  that  very  night, 
but  decided  first  to  see  Marian,  thinking  it  possible  that 
she  might  have  received  some  later  intelligence.  There- 
fore, although  very  doubtful  of  his  reception,  he  had  ven- 
tured to  call,  hoping  that  Marian's  interest  in  her  friend 
might  secure  for  him  a  slight  semblance  of  welcome.  He 
was  relieved  when  she  greeted  him  gravely,  quietly,  but 
not  coldly. 

He  at  once  stated  his  purpose,  and  asked  if  she  had  any 
information  that  would  guide  him  in  his  search.  Although 
she  shook  her  head  and  told  him  that  she  knew  nothing  be- 
yond what  she  had  seen  in  the  paper,  he  saw  with  much  sat- 
isfaction that  her  face  lighted  up  with  hope  and  eagerness, 
and  that  she  approved  of  his  effort.  While  explaining  his 
intentions  he  had  not  sat  down,  but  now  she  cordially  asked 
him  to  be  seated  and  to  give  his  plans  more  in  detail. 

lkI  fear  you  will  find  fearful  confusion  and  difficulty  in 
reaching  the  field,"  she  said. 

"I  have  no  fears,"  he  replied.  "I  shall  go  by  rail  as  far 
as  possible,  then  hire  or  purchase  a  horse.  The  first  list  of 
casualties  is  always   made  up  hastily,  and  I  have  strong 


BLAVVELT  309 

hopes  of  finding  Strahan  in  one  of  the  many  extemporized 
hospitals,  or,  at  least,  of  getting  some  tidings  of  him." 

"One  thing  is  certain,"  she  added,  kindly — "you  have 
proved  that  if  you  do  find  him,  he  will  have  a  devoted 
nurse." 

"I  shall  do  my  best  for  him,"  he  replied,  quietly.  "If 
he  has  been  taken  from  the  field  and  I  can  learn  his  where- 
about, I  shall  follow  him." 

The  color  caused  by  his  first  slight  embarrassment  had 
faded  away,  and  Marian  exclaimed,  "Mr.  Merwyn,  you  are 
either  ill  or  have  been  ill." 

"Oh,  no,"  he  said,  carelessly;  "I  have  only  shared  in 
the  general  excitement  and  anxiety.  I  am  satisfied  that 
we  have  but  barely  escaped  a  serious  outbreak  in  this 
city. ' ' 

"I(think  you  are  right,"  she  answered,  gravely,  and  her 
thought  was:  "He  is  indeed  to  be  pitied  if  a  few  weeks  of 
fearful  expectation  have  made  him  so  pale  and  haggard.  It 
has  probably  cost  him  a  tremendous  effort  to  remain  in  the 
city  where  he  has  so  much  at  stake." 

After  a  moment's  silence  Merwyn  resumed:  "I  shall  soon 
take  my  train.  Would  you  not  like  to  write  a  few  lines  to 
Strahan  ?  As  I  told  you,  in  effect,  once  before,  they  may 
prove  the  best  possible  tonic  in  case  I  find  him." 

Marian,  eager  to  comply  with  the  suggestion,  excused 
herself.  In  her  absence  her  father  entered.  He  also 
greeted  the  young  man  kindly,  and,  learning  of  his  proj- 
ect, volunteered  some  useful  instructions,  adding,  "I  can 
give  you  a  few  lines  that  may  be  of  service." 

At  last  Merwyn  was  about  to  depart,  and  Marian,  for 
the  first  time,  gave  him  her  hand  and  wished  him  "God- 
speed." He  flushed  deeply,  and  there  was  a  flash  of  pleas- 
ure in  his  dark  eyes  as  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  that  he  would 
try  to  deserve  her  kindness. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  ring  at  the  door,  and  a  card 
was  brought  in.  Marian  could  scarcely  believe  her  eyes, 
for  on  it  was  written,  "Henry  Blauvelt." 


310  AJS    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

She  rushed  to  the  door  and  welcomed  the  young  officer 
with  exclamations  of  delight,  and  then  added,  eagerly, 
"Where  is  Mr.   Strahan  ?" 

"I  am  sorry  indeed  to  tell  you  that  I  do  Dot  know," 
Blauvelt  replied,  sadly.  Then  he  hastily  added:  "But  I 
am  sure  he  was  not  killed,  for  I  have  searched  every  part 
of  the  field  where  he  could  possibly  have  fallen.  I  have 
visited  the  hospitals,  and  have  spent  days  and  nights  in 
inquiries.     My  belief  now  is  that  he  was  taken  prisoner." 

"Then  there  is  still  hope!"  exclaimed  the  young  girl, 
with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "You  surely  believe  there  is  still 
hope  ?" 

"I  certainly  believe  there  is  much  reason  for  hope.  The 
rebels  left  their  own  seriously  wounded  men  on  the  field, 
and  took  away  as  prisoners  only  such  of  our  men  as  were 
able  to  march.  It  is  true  I  saw  Strahan  fall  just  as  we  were 
driven  back;  but  I  am  sure  that  he  was  neither  killed  nor 
seriously  wounded,  for  I  went  to  the  spot  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible afterward  and  he  was  not  there,  nor  have  I  been  able, 
since,  to  find  him  or  obtain  tidings  of  him.  He  may  have 
been  knocked  down  by  a  piece  of  shell  or  a  spent  ball.  A 
moment  or  two  later  the  enemy  charged  over  the  spot  where 
he  fell,  and  what  was  left  of  our  regiment  was  driven  back 
some  distance.  From  that  moment  I  lost  all  trace  of  him. 
I  believe  that  he  has  only  been  captured  with  many  other 
prisoners,  and  that  he  will  be  exchanged  in  a  few  weeks." 

"Heaven  grant  that  it  may  be  so!"  she  breathed,  fer- 
vently. "But,  Mr.  Blauvelt,  you  are  wounded.  Do  not 
think  us  indifferent  because  we  have  asked  so  eagerly  after 
Major  Strahan,  for  you  are  here  alive  and  apparently  as 
undaunted  as  ever." 

"Oh,  my  wounds  are  slight.  Carrying  my  arm  in  a 
sling  gives  too  serious  an  impression.  I  merely  had  one 
of  the  fingers  of  my  left  hand  shot  away,  and  a  scratch  on 
my  shoulder." 

"But  have  these  wounds  been  dressed  lately?"  Mr. 
Vosburgh  asked,  gravely. 


BLAUVELT  811 

"And  have  you  had  your  rations  this  evening  ?"  Marian 
added,  with  the  glimmer  of  a  smile. 

1 'Thanks,  yes  to  both  questions.  I  arrived  this  after- 
noon, and  at  once  saw  a  good  surgeon.  I  have  not  taken 
time  to  obtain  a  better  costume  than  this  old  uniform, 
which  has  seen  hard  service." 

"Like  the  wearer,"  said  Marian.  "I  should  have  been 
sorry  indeed  if  you  had  changed  it." 

"Well,  I  knew  that  you  would  be  anxious  to  have  even 
a  negative  assurance  of  Strahan's  safety." 

"And  equally  so  to  be  positively  assured  of  your  own." 

"I  hoped  that  that  would  be  true  to  some  extent.  My 
dear  old  mother,  in  New  Hampshire,  to  whom  I  have  tele- 
graphed, is  eager  to  see  me,  and  so  I  shall  go  on  in  the 
morning." 

''You  must  be  our  guest,  then,  to-night,"  said  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh,  decisively.  "We  will  take  no  refusal,  and  I  shall 
send  at  once  to  the  hotel  for  your  luggage." 

"It  is  small  indeed,"  laughed  Blauvelt,  flushing  with 
pleasure,  "for  I  came  away  in  very  light  marching  order." 

Marian  then  explained  that  Merwyn,  who,  after  a  brief, 
polite  greeting  from  Blauvelt,  had  been  almost  forgotten, 
was  about  to  start  in  search  of  Strahan. 

"I  would  not  lay  a  straw  in  his  way,  and  possibly  he  may 
obtain  some  clew  that  escaped  me,"  said  the  young  officer. 

"Perhaps,  if  you  feel  strong  enough  to  tell  us  something 
of  that  part  of  the  battle  in  which  you  were  engaged,  and  of 
your  search,  Mr.  Merwyn  may  receive  hints  which  will  be 
of  service  to  him,"  Mr.  Vosburgh  suggested. 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to  do  so,  and  feel  entirely  equal  to 
the  effort.  Indeed,  I  have  been  resting  and  sleeping  in  the 
cars  nearly  all  day,  and  am  so  much  better  that  I  scarcely 
feel  it  right  to  be  absent  from  the  regiment." 

They  at  once  repaired  to  the  library,  Marian  leaving 
word  with  Mammy  Borden  that  they  were  engaged,  should 
there  be  other  callers. 


312  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

A     GLIMPSE     OF     WAR 

"^>APTAIN  BL AUVELT,"  said  Marian,  when  they 
I  were  seated  in  the  library,  "I  have  two  favors  to 

^^  ask  of  you.  First,  that  you  will  discontinue  your 
story  as  soon  as  you  feel  the  least  weakness,  and,  second, 
that  you  will  not  gloss  anything  over.  I  wish  a  life-picture 
of  a  soldier's  experience.  Y"ou  and  Mr.  Strahan  have  been 
inclined  to  give  me  the  brighter  side  of  campaigning.  Now, 
tell  us  just  what  you  and  Mr.  Strahan  did.  I've  no  right 
to  be  the  friend  of  soldiers  if  I  cannot  listen  to  the  tragic 
details  of  a  battle,  while  sitting  here  in  this  quiet  room,  and 
I  wish  to  realize,  as  I  never  have  done,  what  you  and  others 
have  passed  through.  Do  not  be  so  modest  that  you  cannot 
tell  us  exactly  what  you  did.  In  brief,  a  plain,  unvarnished 
tale  unfold,  and  I  shall  be  content." 

"Now,"  she  thought,  "Mr.  Merwyn  shall  know  to  whom 
I  can  give  my  friendship.  I  do  not  ask  him,  or  any  one,  to 
face  these  scenes,  but  my  heart  is  for  a  man  who  can  face 
them. ' ' 

Blauvelt  felt  that  he  was  fortunate  indeed.  He  knew 
that  he  had  fair  powers  as  a  raconteur,  and  he  was  conscious 
of  having  taken  no  unworthy  part  in  the  events  he  was 
about  to  describe,  while  she,  who  required  the  story,  was 
the  woman  whom  he  most  admired,  and  whose  good  opinion 
was  dear  to  him. 

Therefore,  after  a  moment's  thought,  he  began:  "In 
order  to  give  you  a  quiet,   and  therefore  a  most  artistic 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    WAR  313 

prelude  to  the  tragedy  of  the  battle,  I  shall  touch  lightly 
on  some  of  the  incidents  of  our  march  to  the  field.  I  will 
take  up  the  thread  of  our  experiences  on  the  loth  of  June, 
for  I  think  you  were  quite  well  informed  of  what  occurred 
before  that  date.  The  15th  was  one  of  the  hottest  days  that 
I  remember.  [  refer  to  this  fact  because  of  a  pleasant  inci- 
dent which  introduces  a  little  light  among  the  shadows,  and 
suggests  that  soldiers  are  not  such  bad  fellows  after  all,  al- 
though inclined  to  be  a  little  rough  and  profane.  Our  men 
suffered  terribly  from  the  heat,  and  some  received  sun- 
strokes. Many  were  obliged  to  fall  out  of  the  ranks,  but 
managed  to  keep  up  with  the  column.  At  noon  we  were 
halted  near  a  Vermont  regiment  that  had  just  drawn  a 
ration  of  soft  bread  and  were  boiling  their  coffee.  As  our 
exhausted  men  came  straggling  and  staggering  in,  these 
hospitable  Vermonters  gave  them  their  entire  ration  of 
bread  and  the  hot  coffee  prepared  for  their  own  meal;  and 
when  the  ambulances  brought  in  the  men  who  had  been 
sunstruck,  these  generous  fellows  turned  their  camp  into 
a  temporary  hospital  and  themselves  into  nurses. 

"I  will  now  give  you  a  glimpse  of  a  different  experience. 
Toward  evening  on  the  19th  a  rainstorm  began,  and  contin- 
ued all  night.  No  orders  to  halt  came  till  after  midnight. 
On  we  splashed,  waded,  and  floundered  along  roads  cut  up 
by  troops  in  advance  until  the  mud  in  many  places  reached 
the  depth  of  ten  inches.  It  was  intensely  dark,  and  we 
could  not  see  to  pick  our  way.  Splashed  from  head  to  foot, 
and  wet  through  for  hours,  we  had  then  one  of  the  most  dis- 
mal experiences  I  remember.  I  had  not  been  well  since  the 
terrible  heat  of  the  15th,  and  Strahan,  putting  on  the  air  of 
a  martinet,  sternly  ordered  me  to  mount  his  horse  while  he 
took  charge  of  my  company." 

Marian  here  clapped  her  hands  in  applause. 

"At  last  we  were  ordered  to  file  to  the  right  into  a  field 
and  bivouac  for  the  night.  The  field  proved  to  be  a  marshy 
meadow,  worse  than  the  road.  But  there  was  no  help  for 
it,  and  we  were  too  tired  to  hunt  around  in  the  darkness  for 

Roe— VI— U 


314  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

a  better  place.  Strahan  mounted  again  to  assist  in  giving 
orders  for  the  night's  arrangement,  and  to  find  drier  ground 
if  possible.  In  the  darkness  he  and  his  horse  tumbled  into 
a  ditch  so  full  of  mire  and  water  that  he  escaped  all  injury. 
We  sank  half-way  to  our  knees  in  the  swampy  ground,  and 
the  horses  floundered  so  that  one  or  two  of  the  officers  were 
thrown,  and  all  were  obliged  to  dismount.  At  last,  by  hal- 
looing, the  regiment  formed  into  line,  and  then  came  the 
unique  order  from  the  colonel,  'Squat,  my  bull-frogs.' 
There  was  nothing  for  us  to  do  but  to  lie  down  on  the 
swampy,  oozing  ground,  with  our  shelter  tents  and  blankets 
wrapped  around  and  under  us.  You  remember  what  an 
exquisite  Strahan  used  to  be.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
him  when  the  morning  revealed  us  to  one  another.  He  was 
of  the  color  of  the  sacred  soil  from  crown  to  toe.  When  we 
met  we  stood  and  laughed  at  each  other,  and  I  wanted  him 
to  let  me  make  a  sketch  for  your  benefit,  but  we  hadn't 
time. 

'lI  will  now  relate  a  little  incident  which  shows  how 
promptly  pluck  and  character  tell.  During  the  25th  we 
were  pushed  forward  not  far  from  thirty  miles.  On  the 
morning  of  this  severe  march  a  young  civilian  officer,  who 
had  been  appointed  to  the  regiment  by  the  Governor,  joined 
us,  and  was  given  command  of  Company  I.  When  he  took 
his  place  in  the  march  there  was  a  feeling  of  intense  hos- 
tility toward  him,  as  there  ever  is  among  veterans  against 
civilians  who  are  appointed  over  them.  If  he  had  fallen 
out  of  the  ranks  and  died  by  the  roadside  I  scarcely  believe 
that  a  man  would  have  volunteered  to  bury  him.  But, 
while  evidently  unaccustomed  to  marching,  he  kept  at  the 
head  of  his  company  throughout  the  entire  day,  when  every 
step  must  have  been  torture.  He  uttered  not  a  word  of 
complaint,  and  at  night  was  seen,  by  the  light  of  a  flaring 
candle,  pricking  the  blisters  on  his  swollen  feet;  then  he 
put  on  his  shoes,  and  walked  away  as  erect  as  if  on  parade. 
In  those  few  hours  he  had  won  the  respect  of  the  entire 
regiment,  and  had  become  one  of  us.     Poor  fellow !     I  may 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    WAR  315 

as  well  mention  now  that  he  was  killed,  a  few  days  later, 
with  many  of  the  company  that  he  was  bravely  leading 
His  military  career  lasted  but  little  over  a  week,  yet  he 
proved  himself  a  hero. 

"Now  I  will  put  in  a  few  high  lights  again.  On  the  28th 
we  entered  Frederick  City.  Here  .we  had  a  most  delightful 
experience.  The  day  was  warm  and  all  were  thirsty.  In- 
stead of  the  cold,  lowering  glances  to  which  we  had  been 
accustomed  in  Virginia,  smiling  mothers,  often  accompanied 
by  pretty  daughters,  stood  in  the  gateways  with  pails  and 
goblets  of  cool,  sparkling  water.  I  doubt  whether  the  same 
number  of  men  ever  drank  so  much  water  before,  for  who 
could  pass  by  a  white  hand  and  arm,  and  a  pretty,  sympa- 
thetic face,  beaming  with  good-will?  Here  is  a  rough 
sketch  I  made  of  a  Quaker  matron,  with  two  charming 
daughters,  and  an  old  colored  man,  'totin'  '  water  at  a  rate 
that  must  have  drained  their  well." 

Marian  praised  the  sketch  so  heartily  that  Merwyn  knew 
she  was  taking  this  indirect  way  to  eulogize  the  soldier  as 
well  as  the  artist,  and  he  groaned  inwardly  as  he  thought 
how  he  must  suffer  by  contrast. 

"I  will  pass  over  what  occurred  till  the  1st  of  July.  Our 
march  lay  through  a  country  that,  after  desolated  Virginia, 
seemed  like  paradise,  and  the  kind  faces  that  greeted  us 
were  benedictions.  July  1  was  clear,  and  the  sun's  rays 
dazzling  and  intense  in  their  heat.  Early  in  the  afternoon 
we  were  lying  around  in  the  shade,  about  two  miles  from 
the  State  line  of  Pennsylvania.  Two  corps  had  preceded 
us.  Some  of  our  men,  with  their  ears  on  the  ground,  de- 
clared that  they  could  hear  the  distant  mutter  of  artillery. 
The  country  around  was  full  of  troops,  resting  like  our- 
selves. 

"Suddenly  shrill  bugle-blasts  in  every  direction  called 
us  into  line.  We  were  moved  through  Emmetsburg,  filed 
to  the  left  into  a  field  until  other  troops  passed,  and  then 
took  our  place  in  the  column  and  began  a  forced  march  to 
Gettysburg.     Again  we  suffered  terribly  from  the  heat  and 


316  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

the  choking  clouds  of  dust  raised  by  commands  in  advance 
of  us.  The  sun  shone  in  the  west  like  a  great,  angry  fur- 
nace. Our  best  men  began  to  stagger  from  the  ranks  and 
fall  by  the  wayside,  while  every  piece  of  woods  we  passed 
was  filled  with  prostrate  men,  gasping,  and  some  evidently 
dying.  But  on,  along  that  white,  dusty  road,  the  living 
torrent  poured.  Only  one  command  was  heard,  'Forward! 
Forward !' 

"First,  like  a  low  jar  of  thunder,  but  with  increasing 
volume  and  threatening  significance,  the  distant  roar  of 
artillery  quickened  the  steps  of  those  who  held  out.  Major 
Strahan  was  again  on  his  feet,  with  other  officers,  their 
horses  loaded  down  with  the  rifles  of  the  men.  Even  food 
and  blankets,  indeed  almost  everything  except  ammunition, 
was  thrown  away  by  the  men,  for,  in  the  effort  to  reach 
the  field  in  time,  an  extra  pound  became  an  intolerable 
burden. 

"At  midnight  we  were  halted  on  what  was  then  the  ex- 
treme left  of  Meade's  position.  When  we  formed  our  regi- 
mental line,  as  usual,  at  the  close  of  the  day,  not  over  one 
hundred  men  and  but  five  or  six  officers  were  present.  Over 
one  hundred  and  fifty  had  given  out  from  the  heat  and  fa- 
tigue. The  moment  ranks  were  broken  the  men  threw 
themselves  down  in  their  tracks  and  slept  with  their  loaded 
guns  by  their  sides.  Strahan  and  I  felt  so  gone  that  we 
determined  to  have  a  little  refreshment  if  possible.  Lights 
were  gleaming  from  a  house  not  far  away,  and  we  went 
thither  in  the  hope  of  purchasing  something  that  would 
revive  us.  We  found  the  building,  and  even  the  yard 
around  it,  full  of  groaning  and  desperately  wounded  men, 
with  whom  the  surgeons  were  busy.  This  foretaste  of  the 
morrow  took  away  our  appetities,  and  we  returned  to  our 
command,  where  Strahan  was  soon  sleeping,  motionless,  as 
so  many  of  our  poor  fellows  would  be  on  the  ensuing 
night. 

"Excessive  fatigue  often  takes  from  me  the  power  to 
sleep,  and  I  lay  awake,   listening  to  the  strange,  ominous 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    WAR  317 

sounds  off  to  our  right.  There  were  the  heavy  rumble  of 
artillery  wheels,  the  tramp  of  men,  and  the  hoarse  voices 
of  officers  giving  orders.  In  the  still  night  these  confused 
sounds  were  wonderfully  distinct  near  at  hand,  but  they 
shaded  off  in  the  northeast  to  mere  murmurs.  I  knew  that 
it  was  the  army  of  the  Potomac  arriving  and  taking  its  posi- 
tions. The  next  day  I  learned  that  General  Meade  had 
reached  the  field  about  one  a.m.,  and  that  he  had  spent  the 
remaining  hours  of  the  night  in  examining  the  ground  and 
in  making  preparations  for  the  coming  struggle.  The  clear, 
white  moonlight,  which  aided  him  in  his  task,  lighted  up 
a  scene  strange  and  beautiful  beyond  words.  It  glinted  on 
our  weapons,  gave  to  the  features  of  the  sleepers  the  hue 
of  death,  and  imparted  to  Strahan's  face,  who  lay  near  me, 
almost  the  delicacy  and  beauty  of  a  girl.  I  declare  to  you, 
that  when  I  remembered  the  luxurious  ease  from  which  he 
had  come,  the  hero  he  was  now,  and  all  his  many  acts  of 
kindness  to  me  and  others — when  I  thought  of  what  might 
be  on  the  morrow,  I'm  not  ashamed  to  say  that  tears  came 
into  my  eyes." 

"Nor  am  I  ashamed,"  faltered  Marian,  "that  you  should 
see  tears  in  mine.  Oh,  God  grant  that  he  may  return  to  us 
again !" 

"Well,"  resumed  Blauvelt,  after  a  moment  of  thought- 
ful hesitation,  "I  suppose  I  was  a  little  morbid  that  night. 
Perhaps  one  was  excusable,  for  all  knew  that  we  were  on 
the  eve  of  the  most  desperate  battle  of  the  war.  I  shall  not 
attempt  to  describe  the  beauty  of  the  landscape,  or  the  fan- 
tastic shapes  taken  by  the  huge  bowlders  that  were  scattered 
about.  My  body  seemed  almost  paralyzed  with  fatigue,  but 
my  mind,  for  a  time,  was  preternaturally  active,  and  noted 
every  little  detail.  Indeed,  I  felt  a  strange  impulse  to  dwell 
upon  and  recall  everything  relating  to  this  life,  since  the 
chances  were  so  great  that  we  might,  before  the  close  of 
another  day,  enter  a  different  state  of  existence.  You  see 
I  am  trying,  as  you  requested,  to  give  you  a  realistic 
picture." 


318  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"That  is  what  I  wish,"  said  the  young  girl;  but  her 
cheeks  were  pale  as  she  spoke. 

"In  the  morning  I  was  awakened  by  one  of  my  men 
bringing  me  a  cup  of  hot  coffee,  and  when  I  had  taken  it, 
and  later  a  little  breakfast  of  raw  pork  and  hard-tack,  I  felt 
like  a  new  man.  Nearly  all  of  our  stragglers  had  joined  us 
during  the  night,  or  in  the  dawn,  and  our  regiment  now 
mustered  about  two  hundred  and  forty  rifles  in  line,  a  sad 
change  from  the  time  when  we  marched  a  thousand  strong. 
But  the  men  now  were  veterans,  and  this  almost  made  good 
the  difference. 

"When  the  sun  was  a  few  hours  high  we  were  moved 
forward  with  the  rest  of  our  brigade;  then,  later,  off  to  the 
left,  and  placed  in  position  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  that  de- 
scended steeply  before  us,  and  was  covered  with  rocks, 
huge  bowlders,  and  undergrowth.  The  right  of  our  regi- 
ment was  in  the  edge  of  a  wood  with  a  smoother  slope  be- 
fore it.  I  and  my  company  had  no  other  shelter  than  the 
rocks  and  bowlders,  which  formed  a  marked  feature  of  the 
locality,  and  protruded  from  the  soil  in  every  imaginable 
shape.  If  we  had  only  thrown  the  smaller  stones  together 
and  covered  them  with  earth  we  might  have  made,  during 
the  time  we  wasted,  a  line  of  defence  from  which  we  could 
not  have  been  driven.  The  2d  of  July  taught  us  that  we 
had  still  much  to  learn.  As  it  was,  we  lounged  about  upon 
the  grass,  seeking  what  shade  we  could  from  the  glare  of  an- 
other intensely  hot  day,  and  did  nothing. 

"A  strange,  ominous  silence  pervaded  the  field  for  hours, 
broken  only  now  and  then  by  a  shell  screaming  through  the 
air,  and  the  sullen  roar  of  the  gun  from  which  it  was  fired. 
The  pickets  along  our  front  would  occasionally  approach 
the  enemy  too  closely,  and  there  would  be  brief  reports  of 
musketry,  again  followed  by  oppressive  silence.  A  field 
o£  wheat  below  us  undulated  in  light  billows  as  the  breeze 
swept  it.  War  and  death  would  be  its  reapers.  The  birds 
were  singing  in  the  undergrowth;  the  sun  lighted  up  the 
rural  landscape  brilliantly,  and  it  was  almost  impossible  to 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    WAR  319 

believe  that  the  scenes  of  the  afternoon  could  take  place. 
By  sweeping  our  eyes  up  and  down  our  line,  and  by  resting 
them  upon  a  battery  of  our  guns  but  a  few  yards  away,  we 
became  aware  of  the  significance  of  our  position.  Lee's  vic- 
torious army  was  before  us.  Sinister  rumors  of  the  defeat 
of  Union  forces  the  previous  day  had  reached  us,  and  we 
knew  that  the  enemy's  inaction  did  not  indicate  hesitation 
or  fear,  but  rather  a  careful  reconnoissance  of  our  lines, 
that  the  weakest  point  might  be  discovered.  Every  hour 
of  delay,  however,  was  a  boon  to  us,  for  the  army  of  the 
Potomac  was  concentrating  and  strengthening  its  position. 

*'\Ve  were  on  the  extreme  left  of  the  Union  army;  and, 
alas  for  us!  Lee  first  decided  to  turn  and  crush  its  left.  As 
I  have  said,  we  were  posted  along  the  crest  of  a  hill  which 
sloped  off  a  little  to  the  left,  then  rose  again,  and  culmi- 
nated in  a  wild,  rocky  elevation  called  the  Devil's  Den — fit 
name  in  view  of  the  scenes  it  witnessed.  Behind  us  was  a 
little  valley  through  which  flowed  a  small  stream  called 
Plum  Run.  Here  the  artillery  horses,  caissons,  and  wagons 
were  stationed,  that  they  might  be  in  partial  shelter.  Across 
the  Run,  and  still  further  back,  rose  the  rocky,  precipitous 
heights  of  Little  Round  Top,  where,  during  the  same  after, 
noon,  some  of  the  severest  fighting  of  the  battle  is  said  to 
have  taken  place.  Please  give  me  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  I 
can  outline  the  nature  of  the  ground  just  around  us.  Of 
the  general  battle  of  that  day  I  can  give  you  but  a  slight 
idea.  One  engaged  in  a  fight  sees,  as  a  rule,  only  a  little 
section  of  it;  but  in  portraying  that  he  gives  the  color  and 
spirit  of  the  whole  thing." 

Rapidly  sketching  for  a  few  minutes,  Blauvelt  resumed: 
"Here  we  are  along  the  crest  of  this  hill,  with  a  steep,  broken 
declivity  in  front  of  us,  extending  down  a  few  hundred  yards 
to  another  small  stream,  a  branch  of  Plum  Run.  Beyond 
this  branch  the  ground  rises  again  to  some  thick  woods, 
which  screened  the  enemy's  movements. 

"At  midday  clouds  of  dust  were  seen  rising  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  we  at  last  were  told  that  Sedgwick's  corps  had 


320  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

arrived,  and  that  the  entire  army  of  the  Potomac  was  on 
the  ground.  As  hours  still  elapsed  and  no  attack  was 
made,  the  feeling  of  confidence  grew  stronger.  Possibly 
Lee  had  concluded  that  our  position  was  unassailable,  or 
something  had  happened.  The  soldier's  imagination  was 
only  second  to  his  credulity  in  receiving  the  rumors  which 
flew  as  thick  as  did  the  bullets  a  little  later. 

"Strahan  and  I  had  a  quiet  talk  early  in  the  day,  and 
said  what  we  wished  to  each  other.  After  that  he  became 
dreamy  and  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts  as  we  watched 
for  signs  of  the  enemy  through  hours  that  seemed  inter- 
minable. Some  laughing,  jesting,  and  card-playing  went 
on  among  the  men,  but  in  the  main  they  were  grave, 
thoughtful,  and  alert,  spending  the  time  in  discussing  the 
probabilities  of  this  conflict,  and  in  recalling  scenes  of  past 
battles. 

4 'Suddenly — it  could  not  have  been  much  past  three 
o'clock — a  dozen  rebel  batteries  opened  upon  us,  and  in  a 
second  we  were  in  a  tempest  of  flying,  bursting  shells.  Our 
guns,  a  few  yards  away,  and  other  batteries  along  our  line, 
replied.  The  roar  of  the  opening  battle  thundered  away  to 
the  right  as  far  as  we  could  hear.  We  were  formed  into  line 
at  once,  and  lay  down  upon  the  ground.  A  few  of  our  men 
were  hit,  however,  and  frightful  wounds  were  inflicted.  Af- 
ter this  iron  storm  had  raged  for  a  time  we  witnessed  a  sight 
that  I  shall  never  forget.  Emerging  from  the  woods  on  the 
slope  opposite  to  us,  solid  bodies  of  infantry,  marching  by 
columns  of  battalion,  came  steadily  toward  us,  their  bayo- 
nets scintillating  in  the  sunlight  as  if  aflame.  On  they 
came  till  they  crossed  the  little  stream  before  us,  and  then 
deployed  into  four  distinct  lines  of  battle  as  steadily  as  if 
on  parade.  It  was  hard  to  realize  that  those  men  were 
marching  toward  us  in  the  bright  sunlight  with  deadly  in- 
tent. Heretofore,  in  Virginia,  the  enemy  had  been  par- 
tially screened  in  his  approaches,  but  now  all  was  like  a 
panorama  spread  before  us.  We  could  see  our  shells  tears 
first  through  their  column,  then  through  the  lines  of  battle, 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    WAR  321 

making  wide  gaps  and  throwing  up  clouds  of  dust.  A  sec- 
ond later  the  ranks  were  closed  again,  and,  like  a  dark  tide, 
on  flowed  their  advance. 

11  We  asked  ourselves,  'What  chance  have  our  thin  ranks 
against  those  four  distinct,  heavy  battle  lines  advancing  to 
assault  us?'  We  had  but  two  ranks  of  men,  they  eight. 
But  not  a  man  in  our  regiment  flinched.  When  the  enemy 
reached  the  foot  of  the  hill  our  cannon  could  not  be  so  de- 
pressed as  to  harm  them.  The  time  had  come  for  the  more 
deadly  small  arms.  After  a  momentary  halt  the  Confeder- 
ates rushed  forward  to  the  assault  with  loud  yells. 

"Strahan's  face  was  flushed  with  excitement  and  ardor. 
He  hastened  to  the  colonel  on  the  right  of  the  line  and  asked 
him  to  order  a  charge.  The  colonel  coolly  and  quietly  told 
him  to  go  back  to  his  place.  A  crash  of  musketry  and  a 
line  of  lire  more  vivid  than  July  sunshine  breaks  out  to  the 
right  and  left  as  far  as  we  can  hear.  Our  men  are  beginning 
to  fall.  Again  the  impetuous  Strahan  hastens  to  the  colo- 
nel and  entreats  for  the  order  to  charge,  but  our  comman- 
der, as  quiet  and  as  impassive  as  the  bowlder  beside  which 
he  stands,  again  orders  him  back.  A  moment  later,  how- 
ever, their  horses  are  brought,  and  they  mount  in  spite'  of 
my  remonstrances  and  those  of  other  officers.  Strahan's 
only  answer  was,  ''The  men  must  see  us  to-day";  and  he 
slowly  rode  to  the  rear  and  centre  of  the  regiment,  wheeled 
his  horse,  and,  with  drawn  sword,  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  colo- 
nel, awaiting  his  signal.  Supreme  as  was  the  moment  of 
excitement,  I  looked  for  a  few  second  at  my  gallant  friend, 
for  I  wished  to  fix  his  portrait  at  that  moment  forever  in 
my  mind. " 

•"Merciful  Heaven!"  said  Marian,  in  a  choking  voice, 
"I  thought  I  appreciated  my  friends  before,  but  I  did 
not. ' ' 

Mr.  Vosburgh's  eyes  rested  anxiously  on  his  daughter, 
and  he  asked,  gravely,  "Marian,  is  it  best  for  you  to  hear 
more  of  this  to-night?" 

"Yes,  papa.     I  must  hear  it  all,  and  not  a  detail  must 


322  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

be  softened  or  omitted.  Moreover,"  she  added,  proudly, 
dashing  her  tears  right  and  left,  "I  am  not  afraid  to  listen." 
Merwyn  had  shifted  his  seat,  and  was  in  deep  shadow. 
He  was  pale  and  outwardly  impassive,  but  there  was  torture 
in  his  mind.  She  thought,  pityingly,  "In  spite  of  my  tears 
I  have  a  stouter  heart  than  he." 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    WAR,   CONTINUED  325 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

A   GLIMPSE    OF    WAR,    CONTINUED 

'"  Ji  It  ISS  MABIAN,"  resumed  Blauvelt,  "the  scenes  I 
/  \l  1  am  now  about  to  describe  are  terrible  in  the  ex- 
a  ▼  i  treme,  even  in  their  baldest  statement.  I  cannot 
portray  what  actually  took  place;  I  doubt  whether  any  one 
could;  I  can  only  give  impressions  of  what  I  saw  and  heard 
when  Dearly  all  of  us  were  almost  insane  from  excitement. 
There  are  men  who  are  cool  in  battle— our  colonel  was,  out- 
wardly—but the  great  majority  of  men  must  be  not  only 
veterans,  but  also  gifted  with  unusual  temperaments,  to  be 
able  to  remain  calm  and  well  balanced  in  the  uproar  of  a 
bloody  battle. 

"In  a  sense,  our  men  were  veterans,  and  were  steady 
enough  to  aim  carefully  as  the  enemy  advanced  up  the 
steep  hill.  Our  shots  told  on  them  more  fatally  than 
theirs  on  us.  The  greater  number  of  us  shared  Stra- 
nan's  impatience,  and  we  longed  for  the  wild,  forward 
dash,  which  is  a  relief  to  the  tremendous  nervous  strain  at 
such  a  time.  After  a  moment  or  two,  that  seemed  ages,  the 
colonel  quietly  nodded  to  Strahan,  who  waved  his  sword, 
pointed  toward  the  enemy,  and  shouted,  'Charge!' 

"You  know  him  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  this  was  not 
an  order  for  the  men  to  fulfil  while  he  looked  on.  In  a  sec« 
ond  his  powerful  bay  sprang  through  the  centre  of  our  line, 
and  to  keep  up  with  him  we  had  to  follow  on  a  run.  There 
was  no  hesitation  or  nagging.  Faces  that  had  been  pale  were 
flushed  now.  As  I  turned  my  eyes  from  moment  to  moment 
back  to  my  company,  the  terrible  expression  of  the  men's 


324  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

eyes  impressed  me  even  then.  The  colonel  watched  our  im- 
petuous rush  with  proud  satisfaction,  and  then  spurred  his 
horse  to  the  very  midst  of  our  advance.  The  lieutenant- 
colonel,  undaunted  by  a  former  wound,  never  flinched  a 
second,  but  wisely  fought  on  foot. 

"The  first  battle -line  of  the  enemy  seemed  utterly  un- 
able to  stand  before  our  fierce  onset.  Those  who  were  not 
shot  fled. 

"Again  I  saw  Strahan  waving  his  sword  and  shouting: 
'Victory!     Forward,  men!  forward!' 

"He  was  in  the  very  van,  leading  us  all.  At  this  mo- 
ment the  second  rebel  line  fired  a  volley,  and  the  bullets 
swept  by  like  an  autumn  gust  through  a  tree  from  which 
the  leaves,  thinned  by  former  gales,  are  almost  stripped. 
It  seemed  at  the  moment  as  if  every  other  man  went  down. 
Wonder  of  wonders,  as  the  smoke  lifted  a  little,  I  saw  to 
the  right  the  tali  form  of  our  colonel  still  on  his  gray  horse, 
pointing  with  his  sword  to  the  second  rebel  line,  and  shout- 
ing, 'Forward,  my  men!  forward!' 

"As  the  order  left  his  lips,  his  sword  fell,  point-down- 
ward, and,  with  a  headlong  curve,  he  went  over  his  horse 
upon  the  rocks  below.  Even  in  his  death  he  went  toward 
the  enemy.  His  horse  galloped  in  the  same  direction,  but 
soon  fell.  I  thought  that  Strahan  was  gone  also,  for  he  was 
hidden  by  smoke.  A  second  later  I  heard  his  voice:  'For- 
ward!    Charge!' 

"The  men  seemed  infuriated  by  the  loss  of  the  colonel, 
and  by  no  means  daunted.  Our  next  mad  rush  broke  the 
second  line  of  the  enemy. 

"The  scene  now  defies  all  my  powers  of  description. 
The  little  handful  of  men  that  was  left  of  my  company 
were  almost  beyond  control.  Each  soldier  was  acting 
under  the  savage  impulse  to  follow  and  kill  some  rebel 
before  him.  I  shared  the  feeling,  yet  remained  sane 
enough  to  thank  God  when  I  saw  Strahan  leap  lightly 
down  from  his  staggering  horse,  yet  ever  crying,  'For- 
ward!'    A  second  later  the  poor  animal  fell  dead. 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    WAR,    CONTINUED  325 

"Our  own  cannons  were  bellowing  above  us;  the  shells  of 
the  enemy  were  shrieking  over  our  heads.  There  was  a 
continuous  crash  of  musketry  that  sounded  like  a  fierce, 
devouring  flame  passing  through  dry  thorns,  yet  above  all 
this  babel  of  horrid  sounds  could  be  heard  the  shouts  and 
yells  of  the  combatants  and  the  shrieks  and  groans  of 
wounded  and  dying  men.  Then  remember  that  1  saw  but 
a  little  section,  a  few  yards  in  width,  of  a  battle  extending 
for  miles. 

"In  our  mad  excitement  we  did  not  consider  the  odds 
against  us.     The  two  remaining  lines  of  battle  were  advanc- 
ing swiftly  through  the  fugitives,  and  we  struck  the  first 
with  such   headlong  impetuosity  that  it  was  repulsed  and 
gave   back;   but  the  fourth  and  last  line  passing  through, 
and  being  re-enforced  by  the  other  broken  lines,  came  un- 
faltering, and  swept  us  back  from  sheer  weight  of  numbers. 
We  were  now  reduced  to  a  mere  skirmish  line.     It  was  at 
this  moment  that  I  saw  Strahan  fall,  and  it  seemed  but  a 
second  later  that  the  enemy's  advance  passed  over  the  spot. 
It  was  impossible  then  to  rescue  him,  for  the  lieutenant- 
colonel  had  given  orders  for  all  to  fall  back  and  rally  be- 
hind the  guns  that  it  was  our  duty  to  protect.     Indeed,  the 
difficult  thing,  now,  was  to  get  back.     The  Union  regiment, 
on  our  right,  had  given  way,  after  a  gallant  fight,  earlier 
than  we  had,  and  the  rebels  were  on  our  flank  and  rear.     A 
number  of  our  men  going  to  the  ridge,  from  which  they  had 
charged,  ran  into  the  enemy  and  were  captured.      There 
were  desperate   hand-to-hand  encounters,    hair- breadth  es- 
capes,   and  strange  episodes. 

"One  occurs  to  me  which  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes.  It 
happened  a  little  earlier  in  the  fight.  We  were  so  close 
to  the  enemy  that  a  man  in  my  company  had  not  time  to 
withdraw  his  ramrod,  and,  in  his  instinctive  haste  to  shoot 
first  at  a  rebel  just  before  him,  sent  ramrod  and  all  through 
the  Confederate's  body,  pinning  him  to  the  ground.  The 
poor  fellow  stretched  out  his  hands  and  cried  for  mercy. 
My  man  not  only  wished  to  recover  his  rod,  but  was,  I  be- 


326  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

lieve,  actuated  by  a  kindly  impulse,  for  he  ran  to  the 
'Johnny,'  pulled  out  the  rod,  jerked  the  man  to  his  feet, 
and  started  him  on  a  run  to  our  rear  as  prisoner. 

"When  at  last  what  was  left  of  the  regiment  reached  its 
original  position  it  numbered  no  more  than  a  full  company. 
Scarcely  a  hundred  were  in  line.  Over  one  hundred  of  our 
men  and  the  majority  of  the  officers  were  either  killed  or 
wounded.  While  the  lieutenant-colonel  was  rallying  us 
near  the  battery,  a  shell  struck  a  gun-carriage,  hurling  it 
against  him,  and  he  was  borne  senseless  from  the  field. 
The  command  now  devolved  on  the  senior  captain  left 
unwounded. 

"One  of  my  men  now  said  to  me,  'Captain,  why  don't 
you  go  to  the  rear  ?  Your  face  is  so  covered  with  blood 
that  you  must  be  badly  hurt' 

"It  was  only  at  that  moment  that  I  became  conscious  of 
my  wound.  In  my  intense  anxiety  about  Strahan,  in  the 
effort  to  get  my  men  back  in  something  like  order,  and  in 
the  shock  of  seeing  the  lieutenant-colonel  struck  down,  my 
mind  seemed  almost  unaware  of  the  existence  of  the  body. 
In  the  retreat  I  had  felt  something  sting  my  hand  like  a 
nettle,  and  now  found  one  of  the  fingers  of  my  left  hand 
badly  shattered.  With  this  hand  I  had  been  wiping  my 
brow,  for  it  was  intensely  hot.  I  therefore  was  the  most 
sanguineous-looking  man  of  our  number. 

"Of  course  I  did  not  go  to  the  rear,  because  of  a  wound 
of  so  slight  a  nature,  and  my  earnest  hope  was  that  re- 
enforcements  would  enable  us  to  drive  the  enemy  back  so 
that  I  could  go  to  the  spot  where  I  had  seen  Strahan  fall. 

"What  I  have  vainly  attempted  to  describe  occurred  in 
jess  time  than  I  have  taken  in  telling  about  it.  I  think  it 
would  have  been  much  better  if  we  had  never  left  the  line 
which  we  now  occupied,  and  which  we  still  held  in  spite  of 
the  overwhelming  superiority,  in  numbers,  of  the  enemy. 
If,  instead  of  wasting  the  morning  hours,  we  had  fortified 
this  line,  we  never  could  have  been  driven  from  it. 

"Our  immediate  foes  in  front  of  us  did  not  at  that  timo 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    WAR,    VONTINUED  327 

advance  much  further  than  the  point  of  our  repulse,  and 

like  ourselves,  sought  cover  from  which  to  fire.      We  now 

had  a  chance  to  recover  a  little  from  our  wild  excitement 

and  to  realize,  in  a  slight  degree,   what  was  takin-  place 

around  us.     Information  came   that  our  corps-commander 

had  been  seriously  wounded.     Our  own  colonel  lav,   with 

other  dead  officers,  a  little  in  our  rear,  vet  in  plain  si^ht 

A\  e  could  only  give  them  a  mournful  glance,  for  the  battle 

was  still  at  its  height,  and  was  raging  in  our  front  and  for 

miles  to  the  right.     The  thunder  of  three  hundred  or  more 

guns  made  the  very  earth  tremble,  while  the  shrieking  and 

bursting  of  the  shells  above  us  filled  the  air  with  a  din  that 

Was  infernal. 

"But  we  had  little  chance  to  observe  or  think  of  any- 
thing except  the  enemy  just  below  us.  With  wolfish  eyes 
they  were  watching  every  chance  to  pick  off  our  men 
Many  of  our  killed  and  wounded  on  the  bloody  declivity 
were  m  plain  view,  and  one  poor  fellow,  desperately  hurt, 
would  often  raise  his  hand  and  wave  it  to  us. 

"Our  men  acted   like  heroes,   and   took  deliberate  aim 
before  they  fired.      When  a  poor  fellow  dropped,  one  of  our 
officers  picked  up  the  rifle  and  fired  in  his  place." 
"Did  you  do  that?"   Marian  asked. 

"Yes;   my  sword  was  of  no  service,  and  my  handful  of 
men  needed  no  orders.      Anything  at  such  a  time  is  better 
than  inaction,  and   we  all  felt  that  the  line  must  be  held 
Every  bullet  counted,  you  know. 

"Some  of  our  boys  did  very  brave  things  at  this  time. 
For  instance:  rifles,  that  had  become  so  clogged  or  hot  as 
to  be  unserviceable,  were  dropped,  and  the  men  would  say 
to  their  immediate  companions,  'Be  careful  how  you  fire.' 
and  then  rush  down  the  slope,  pick  up  the  guns  of  dead  or 
wounded  comrades,  and  witn  these  continue  the  fight. 

"At  last  the  enemy's  fire  slackened  a  little,  and  I  went 
to  take  my  farewell  look  at  our  colonel  and  others  of  our 
officers  whose  bodies  had  been  recovered.  These  were  then 
carried  to  the  rear,  and  I  never  saw  their  familiar  faces  ao-ain. 


828  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"The  horses  now  came  up  at  a  gallop  to  take  away  the 
battery  near  us,  and  I  saw  a  thing  which  touched  me  deeply. 
As  the  horses  were  turning  that  a  gun  might  be  limbered 
up,  a  shot,  with  a  clean  cut,  carried  away  a  leg  from  one  of 
the  poor  animals.  The  faithful,  well- trained  beast,  tried  to 
hobble  around  into  his  place  on  three  legs.  He  seemed 
to  have  caught  the  spirit  which  animated  the.  entire  army 
that  day. 

"As  I  turned  toward  the  regiment,  the  cry  went  up, 
'They  are  flanking  us!' 

"The  brief  slackening  of  the  enemy's  fire  had  only  indi- 
cated preparations  for  a  general  forward  movement.  An 
aid  now  galloped  to  us  with  orders  to  fall  back  instantly. 
A  few  of  my  men  had  been  placed,  for  the  sake  of  cover, 
in  the  woods  on  the  right,  and  I  hastened  over  to  them 
to  give  the  order.  By  the  time  I  had  collected  them,  the 
enemy  had  occupied  our  old  position  and  we  barely  escaped 
capture.  When  we  caught  up  with  the  regiment,  our  brig- 
ade commander  had  halted  it  and  was  addressing  it  in  strong 
words  of  eulogy;  adding,  however,  that  he  still  expected  al- 
most impossible  things  of  his  troops. 

"It  was  pleasant  to  know  that  our  efforts  had  been  recog- 
nized and  appreciated,  but  our  hearts  were  heavy  with  the 
thoughts  of  those  we  had  lost.  We  were  now  sent  to  a  piece 
of  woods  about  a  mile  to  the  rear,'  as  a  part  of  the  reserve, 
and  it  so  happened  that  were  not  again  called  into  the  fight, 
which  ended,  you  know,  the  next  day. 

"I  had  bound  up  my  fingers  as  well  as  I  could,  and  now, 
in  reaction  and  from  loss  of  blood,  felt  sick  and  faint.  I  did 
not  wish  to  go  to  our  field  hospital,  for  I  knew  the  scenes 
there  were  so  horrible  that  I  should  not  be  equal  to  witness- 
ing them.  Our  surgeon  came  and  dressed  my  finger  for  me, 
and  said  that  it  would  have  to  come  off  in. the  morning,  and 
1  now  found  that  my  shoulder  also  had  been  slightly  cut  with 
a  bullet.  These  injuries  on  that  day,  however,  were  the 
merest  trifles. 

"Our  supper  was  the  dreariest  meal  I  ever  took.     The 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    WAR,   CONTINUED  829 

men  spoke  in  subdued  tones,  and  every  now  and  then  a 
rough  fellow  would  draw  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes,  as  so 
many  things  brought  to  mind  those  who  had  breakfasted 
with  us.  We  were  like  a  household  that  had  returned  from 
burying  the  greater  part  of  its  number.  Yes,  worse  than 
this,  for  many,  suffering  from  terrible  wounds,  were  in  the 
hands  of  the  enemy. 

11  Of  course  I  grieved  for  the  loss  of  men  and  officers, 
but  I  had  come  to  feel  like  a  brother  toward  Strahan,  and, 
fatigued  as  I  was,  solicitude  on  his  account  kept  me  awake 
for  hours.  The  battle  was  still  raging  on  our  extreme  right, 
and  I  fell  asleep  before  the  ominous  sounds  ceased. 

"Waking  with  the  dawn,  I  felt  so  much  better  and 
stronger  that  I  took  a  hasty  cup  of  coffee,  and  then  started 
toward  the  spot  where  I  had  seen  Strahan  fall,  in  the  hope 
of  reaching  it.  The  surgeon  had  ordered  that  I  should  be 
relieved  from  duty,  and  told  me  to  keep  quiet.  This  was 
impossible  with  my  friend's  fate  in  such  uncertainty.  I  soon 
found  that  the  enemy  occupied  the  ground  on  which  we  had 
fought,  and  that  to  go  beyond  a  certain  point  would  be 
death  or  captivity.  Therefore  I  returned,  the  surgeon  am- 
putated my  finger,  and  then  I  rested  with  the  regiment 
several  hours.  With  the  dawn,  heavy  fighting  began  again 
on  the  extreme  right,  but  we  knew  at  the  time  little  of  its 
character  or  object. 

"After  an  early  dinner  I  became  restless  and  went  to  our 
corps-hospitals  to  look  after  such  of  the  wounded  of  my 
company  as  had  been  carried  thither.  It  was  situated  in  a 
grove  not  far  away.  I  will  not  describe  the  scenes  witnessed 
there,  for  it  would  only  give  you  useless  pain.  The  sur- 
geons had  been  at  work  all  the  night  and  morning  around 
the  amputation  tables,  and  our  doctor  and  chaplain  had 
done  about  all  that  could  be  accomplished  for  our  poor 
fellows.  There  were  hundreds  of  men  lying  on  the  ground, 
many  of  whom  were  in  the  agonies  of  death  even  as  I  passed. 
"I  again  went  back  to  see  if  there  had  been  any  change 
in  our  front  which  would  enable  me  to  reach  Strahan.    This 


330  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

still  being  impossible,  I  continued  along  our  lines  to  the 
right  at  a  slow  pace,  that  I  might  gain  some  idea  of  our 
position  and  prospects.  My  hope  now  of  reaching  Strahan 
lay  in  our  defeating  Lee  and  gaining  the  field.  Therefore 
I  had  a  double  motive  to  be  intensely  interested  in  all  I 
saw.  Since  nine  in  the  morning  a  strange  silence  had  set- 
tled on  the  field,  but  after  yesterday's  experience  it  raised 
no  delusive  hopes.  With  the  aid  of  a  small  field-glass  that 
I  carried,  I  could  see  the  enemy's  batteries,  and  catch 
glimpses  of  their  half-concealed  infantry,  which  were  mov- 
ing about  in  a  way  that  indicated  active  preparation  for 
something.  Our  officers  had  also  made  the  most  of  this 
respite,  and  there  had  been  a  continuous  shifting  of  troops, 
strengthening  of  lines,  and  placing  of  artillery  in  position 
since  the  dawn.  Now,  however,  the  quiet  was  wonderful, 
in  view  of  the  vast  bodies  of  men  which  were  in  deadly 
array.     Even  the  spiteful  picket-firing  had  ceased. 

"I  had  barely  reached  a  high  point,  a  little  in  the  rear 
of  the  Second  Corps,  commanded  by  General  Hancock, 
when  I  saw  evidences  of  excitement  and  interest  around 
me.  Eyes  and  field-glasses  were  directed  toward  the  enemy's 
lines  nearly  opposite.  Springing  on  a  rock  near  me,  I  turned 
my  glass  in  the  same  direction,  and  saw  that  Lee  was  mass- 
ing his  artillery  along  the  edge  of  the  woods  on  the  ridge 
opposite.  The  post  of  observation  was  a  good  one,  and  I 
determined  to  maintain  it.  The  rock  promised  shelter  when 
the  iron  tempest  should  begin. 

"Battery  after  battery  came  into  position,  until,  with  my 
glass,  I  could  count  nearly  a  hundred  guns.  On  our  side 
batteries  were  massing  also,  both  to  the  right  and  the  left 
of  where  I  stood.  Experience  had  so  taught  me  what  these 
preparations  meant  that  I  fairly  trembled  with  excitement 
and  awe.  It  appeared  as  if  I  were  about  to  witness  one  of 
the  most  terrific  combats  of  the  world,  and  while  I  might 
well  doubt  whether  anything  could  survive  the  concentrated 
fire  of  these  rebel  guns,  I  could  not  resist  the  desire  to  see 
out  what  I  felt  must  be  the  final  and  supreme  effort  of  both 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    WAR,    CONTINUED  331 

armies.  Therefore  I  stuck  to  my  rock  and  swept  with  my 
glass  the  salient  points  of  interest.  I  dreaded  the  effect  of 
the  awful  cannonade  upon  our  lines  of  infantry  that  lay 
upon  the  ground  below  me,  behind  such  slight  shelter  as 
they  could  find.  Our  position  at  this  point  was  command- 
ing, but  many  of  the  troops  were  fearfully  exposed,  while 
our  artillerymen  had  to  stand  in  plain  view.  Over  all  this 
scene,  so  awfully  significant  and  unnaturally  quiet,  the 
scorching  July  sun  sent  down  its  rays  like  fiery  darts, 
which  everywhere  on  the  field  scintillated  as  if  they  were 
kindling  innumerable  fires. 

"At  last  the  enemy  fired  a  single  gun.  Almost  instantly 
a  flashing  line  of  light  swept  along  the  massed  Confederate 
batteries,  1  sprang  down  behind  my  rock  as  a  perfect  storm 
of  iron  swept  over  and  around  me,  and  my  heart  stood  al- 
most still  at  the  deep  reverberations  which  followed.  This 
was  but  the  prelude  to  the  infernal  symphony  that  followed. 
With  remarkable  rapidity  and  precision  of  aim  the  enemy 
continued  firing,  not  irregularly,  but  in  immense  thunder- 
ing volleys,  all  together.  There  would  be  a  moment's  pause, 
and  then  would  come  such  a  storm  of  iron  that  it  seemed  to 
me  that  even  my  sheltering  rock  would  be  cut  away,  and 
that  everything  exposed  must  be  annihilated. 

"At  first  I  was  exceedingly  troubled  that  our  guns  did 
not  reply.  Could  it  be  possible  that  the  enemy's  lire  was 
so  destructive  that  our  forces  were  paralyzed  ?  I  was  learn- 
ing to  distinguish  between  the  measured  cadences  of  the 
enemy's  firing.  After  a  hurtling  shower  flew  over,  I  sprang 
out,  took  a  survey,  and  was  so  filled  with  exultation  and 
confidence,  that  I  crept  back  again  with  hope  renewed. 
Our  men  were  standing  at  the  guns,  which  officers  were 
sighting  in  order  to  get  more  accurate  range,  and  the  infantry 
had  not  budged.  Of  course  there  were  streams  of  wounded 
going  to  the  rear,  but  this  is  true  of  every  battle. 

"I  now  had  to  share  my  slight  cover  with  several  others, 
and  saw  that  if  I  went  out  again  I  should  lose  it  altogether. 
So  I  determined  to  wait  out  the  artillery  duel  quietly.     I 


832  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

could  see  the  effects  of  the  enemy's  shells  in  the  rear,  if  not 
in  front,  and  these  were  disastrous  enough.  In  the  depres- 
sion behind  the  ridge  on  which  were  our  guns  and  infantry, 
there  were  ammunition- wagons,  ambulances,  and  caissons. 
Among  these,  shells  were  making  havoc.  Soon  a  caisson 
exploded  with  a  terrific  report  and  a  great  cloud  of  smoke, 
which,  clearing,  revealed  many  prostrate  forms,  a  few  of 
which  were  able  to  crawl  away. 

"Minutes,  which  seemed  like  ages,  had  passed,  and  the 
horrible  din  was  then  doubled  by  the  opening  of  all  our 
batteries.  The  ground  beneath  me  trembled,  but  as  time 
passed  and  our  guns  kept  up  their  steady  fire,  and  the  in- 
fantry evidently  remained  unshaken  in  their  lines  of  defence, 
my  confidence  became  stronger.  By  degrees  you  grow  ac- 
customed to  almost  anything,  and  I  now  found  leisure  to 
observe  my  companions  behind  the  rock.  I  instantly  per- 
ceived that  two  of  them  were  press-correspondents,  young, 
boyish-looking  fellows,  who  certainly  proved  themselves 
veterans  in  coolness  and  courage.  Even  in  that  deadly 
tempest  they  were  alert  and  busy  with  their  note- books. 

"When  the  caisson  exploded,  each  swiftly  wrote  a  few 
cabalistc  symbols.  There  was  a  house  to  the  left,  as  we  sat 
facing  our  rear,  and  I  saw  that  they  kept  their  eyes  on  that 
almost  continually.  Curious  to  know  why,  I  shouted  in  the 
ear  of  one,  asking  the  reason.  He  wrote,  'Meade's  head- 
quarters,' and  then  1  shared  their  solicitude.  That  it  was 
occupied  by  some  general  of  high  rank,  was  evident  from 
the  number  of  horses  tied  around  it,  and  the  rapid  coming 
and  going  of  aids  and  orderlies;  but  it  seemed  a  terrible 
thing  that  our  commander-in-chief  should  be  so  exposed. 
Shells  flew  about  the  little  cottage  like  angry  hornets  about 
their  nest,  and  every  few  minutes  one  went  in.  The  poor 
horses,  tied  and  helpless,  were  kicking  and  plunging  in 
their  terror,  and  one  after  another  went  down,  killed  or 
wounded.  I  was  told  that  General  Meade  and  staff  were 
soon  compelled  to  leave  the  place. 

"The   hours    of   the  cannonade  grew   monotonous   and 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    WAR,    COXTIXUED  333 

oppressive.  Again  and  again  caissons  were  exploded  and 
added  to  the  terrible  list  of  casualties.  Wagons  and  am- 
bulances— such  of  them  as  were  not  wrecked — were  driven 
out  of  range.  Every  moment  or  two  the  ground  shook  with 
the  recoil  and  thunder  of  our  batteries,  while  the  air  above 
and  around  us  seemed  literally  filled  with  shrieking,  moan- 
ing, whistling  projectiles  of  almost  every  size  and  pattern 
in  present  use.  From  them  came  puffs  of  smoke,  sharp 
cracks,  heard  above  the  general  din,  as  they  exploded  and 
showered  around  us  pieces  of  jagged  iron.  When  a  shell 
bursts,  its  fragments  strike  the  ground  obliquely,  with  a 
forward  movement;  therefore  our  comparative  safety  be- 
hind our  rock,  which  often  shook  from  the  terrific  impact 
of  missiles  on  its  outer  side.  So  many  had  now  sought  its 
shelter  that  some  extended  beyond  its  protection,  and  before 
the  cannonade  was  over  two  were  killed  outright,  almost 
within  reach  of  my  arm.  Many  of  the  wounded,  in  going 
to  the  rear,  were  struck  down  before  reaching  a  place  of 
safety.  The  same  was  true  of  the  men  bringing  ammuni- 
tion from  the  caissons  in  the  depression  beneath  us.  Every 
lew  minutes  an  officer  of  some  rank  would  be  carried  by  on 
a  stretcher,  with  a  man  or  two  in  attendance.  I  saw  one  of 
these  hastily  moving  groups  prostrated  by  a  shell,  and  Done 
of  them  rose  again  or  struggled.  I  only  tell  you  of  these 
scenes  in  compliance  with  your  wish,  Miss  Marian,  and  be- 
cause I  see  that  you  have  the  spirit  of  a  soldier.  I  was  told 
that,  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  the  wife  of  a  general  came 
on  the  field  in  search  of  her  husband,  who  was  reported 
wounded.     I  believe  that  you  could  have  done  the  same." 

"I  don't  know,"  she  replied,  sadly — 4lI  don't  know,  for 
I  never  realized  what  war  was  before;"  and  she  looked  ap- 
prehensively at  Merwyn,  fearing  to  see  traces  of  weakness. 
His  side  face,  as  he  sat  in  the  shadow,  was  pale  indeed,  but 
he  was  rigid  and  motionless.  She  received  the  impression 
that  he  was  bracing  himself  by  the  whole  strength  of  his 
will  to  listen  through  the  dreadful  story. 

Again  Mr.  Vosburgh  suggested  that  these  details  were 


334  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

too  terrific  for  his  daughter's  nerves,  but  she  interrupted 
him  almost  sternly,  saying:  "No,  papa,  I  intend  to  know- 
just  what  my  friends  have  passed  through.  1  feel  that  it  is 
due  to  them,  and,  if  I  cannot  hear  quietly,  I  am  not  worthy 
to  be  their  friend.  I  can  listen  to  words  when  Southern 
girls  can  listen  to  bullets.  Captain  Blauvelt,  you  are  de- 
scribing the  battle  exactly  as  I  asked  and  wished.  My  only 
fear  is  that  you  are  going  beyond  your  strength;"  and  she 
poured  him  out  a  glass  of  light  wine. 

"When  you  come  to  hear  all  I  passed  through  after  leav- 
ing that  rock,  you  will  know  that  this  story-telling  is  not 
worth  thinking  about,"  said  Blauvelt,  with  a  slight  laugh. 
"All  my  exposure  was  well  worth  the  risk,  for  the  chance 
of  telling  it  to  a  woman  of  your  nerve.  My  hope  now  is 
that  Strahan  may  some  day  learn  how  stanch  was  our  'home 
support,'  as  we  were  accustomed  to  call  you.  I  assure  you 
that  many  a  man  has  been  inspired  to  do  his  best  because 
of  such  friendship  and  sympathy.  I  am  now  about  to  tell 
you  of  the  grandest  thing  I  ever  saw  or  expect  to  see,  and 
shall  not  abate  one  jot  of  praise  because  the  heroic  act  was 
performed  by  the  enemy." 


THE    GRAXD    ASSAULT  385 


CHAPTEK  XXXV 

THE     GRAND     ASSAULT 

AFTEK  seeming  ages  had  passed,"  Blauvelt  resumed, 
having  taken  a  few  moments  of  rest,  lithe  fire  of 
our  artillery  slackened  and  soon  ceased,  and  that 
of  the  rebels  also  became  less  rapid  and  furious.  We  saw 
horses  brought  up,  and  some  of  our  batteries  going  to  the 
rear  at  a  gallop.  Could  our  guns  have  been  silenced  ?  and 
was  disaster  threatening  us  ?  Our  anxiety  was  so  great  that 
the  two  correspondents  and  I  rushed  out  and  were  speedily 
reassured.  There  was  our  infantry,  still  in  line,  and  we 
soon  saw  that  reserve  batteries  were  taking  the  place  of 
those  withdrawn.  We  afterward  learned  that  General  Meade 
and  brave  General  Hunt,  Chief  of  Artillery,  had  ordered  our 
guns  to  be  quiet  and  prepare  for  the  assault  which  they 
knew  would  follow  the  cannonade. 

ikThe  wind  blew  from  us  toward  the  enemy,  and  our  un- 
broken lines  were  in  view.  All  honor  to  the  steadfast  men 
who  had  kept  their  places  through  the  most  awful  artillery 
combat  ever  known  on  this  continent.  For  nearly  two  mor- 
tal hours  the  infantry  had  been  obliged  to  lie  still  and  see 
men  on  every  side  of  them  torn  and  mangled  to  death;  but 
like  a  wide  blue  ribbon,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
there  they  lay  with  the  sunlight  glittering  on  their  polished 
muskets.  The  rebels'  fire  soon  slackened  also.  We  now 
mounted  the  friendly  rock,  and  I  was  busy  with  my  glass 
again.  As  the  smoke  lifted,  which  had  covered  the  enemy's 
position,  I  saw  that  we  had  not  been  the  only  sufferers. 
Many  of  their  guns  were  overturned,  and  the  ground  all 
along  their  line  was  thick  with  prostrate  men. 


386  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"But  they  and  their  guns  were  forgotten.  Their  part 
in  the  bloody  drama  was  to  be  superseded,  and  we  now 
witnessed  a  sight  which  can  scarcely  ever  be  surpassed. 
Emerging  from  the  woods  on  the  opposite  ridge,  over  a 
mile  away,  came  long  lines  of  infantry.  Our  position  was 
to  be  assaulted.  I  suppose  the  cessation  of  our  firing  led 
the  enemy  to  think  that  our  batteries  had  been  silenced  and 
the  infantry  supports  driven  from  the  hill.  The  attacking 
column  was  forming  right  under  our  eyes,  and  we  could  see 
other  Confederate  troops  moving  up  on  the  right  and  left  to 
cover  the  movement  and  aid  in  carrying  it  out. 

11  There  was  bustle  on  our  side  also,  in  spite  of  the  enemy's 
shells,  which  still  fell  thickly  along  our  line.  New  batteries 
were  thundering  up  at  a  gallop;  those  at  the  front,  which 
had  horses  left,  were  withdrawn;  others  remained  where 
they  had  been  shattered  and  disabled,  fresh  pieces  taking 
position  beside  them.  The  dead  and  wounded  were  rapidly 
carried  to  the  rear,  and  the  army  stripped  itself,  like  an 
athlete,  for  the  final  struggle. 

11  Our  batteries  again  opened  with  solid  shot  at  the  dis- 
tant Confederate  infantry,  but  there  was  only  the  hesitation 
on  their  part  incident  to  final  preparation.  Soon  on  came 
their  centre  rapidly,  their  flank  supports,  to  right  and  left, 
moving  after  them.  It  proved  to  be  the  launching  of  a 
human  thunderbolt,  and  I  watched  its  progress,  fascinated 
and  overwhelmed  with  awe." 

"Were  you  exposed  at  this  time  to  the  enemy's  shells?" 
Marian  asked. 

"Yes,  but  their  fire  was  not  so  severe  as  it  had  been, 
and  my  interest  in  the  assault  was  so  absorbing  that  I  could 
scarcely  think  of  anything  else.  I  could  not  help  believing 
that  the  fate  of  our  army,  perhaps  of  the  country,  was  to  be 
decided  there  right  under  my  eyes,  and  this  by  an  attack 
involving  such  deadly  peril  to  the  participants  that  I  felt 
comparatively  safe. 

"The  scene  during  the  next  half-hour  defies  description. 
All  ever  witnessed  in  Koman  amphitheatres  was  child's  play 


THE    GRAND    ASSAULT  337 

in  comparison.  The  artillery  on  both  sides  had  resumed  its 
heavy  din,  the  enemy  seeking  to  distract  our  attention  and 
render  the  success  of  their  assault  more  probable,  and  we 
concentrating  our  fire  on  that  solid  attacking  column.  As 
they  approached  nearer,  our  guns  were  shotted  with  shells 
that  made  great  gaps  in  their  ranks,  but  they  never  faltered. 
Spaces  were  closed  instantly,  and  on  they  still  came  like  a 
dark,  resistless  wave  tipped  with  light,  as  the  sun  glinted 
on  their  bayonets  through  rifts  of  smoke. 

"As  they  came  nearer,  our  guns  in  front  crumbled  and 
decimated  the  leading  ranks  with  grape  and  canister,  while 
other  batteries  further  away  to  the  right  and  left  still  plowed 
red  furrows  with  shot  and  shell;  but  the  human  torrent, 
although  shrinking  and  diminishing,  flowed  on.  I  could 
not  imagine  a  more  sublime  exhibition  of  courage.  Should 
the  South  rear  to  the  skies  a  monument  to  their  soldiers,  it 
would  be  insignificant  compared  with  that  assaulting  col- 
umn, projected  across  the  plain  of  Gettysburg. 

"At  the  foot  of  the  ridge  the  leaders  of  this  forlorn  hope, 
as  it  proved,  halted  their  troops  for  a  moment.  As  far  as 
the  smoke  permitted  me  to  see,  it  seemed  that  the  support- 
ing Confederate  divisions  had  not  kept  pace  with  the  centre. 
Would  the  assault  be  made  ?  The  familiar  rebel  yell  was 
a  speedy  answer,  as  they  started  up  the  acclivity,  firing  as 
they  came.  Now,  more  vivid  than  the  sunlight,  a  sheet 
of  fire  flashed  out  along  our  line,  and  the  crash  of  musketry 
drowned  even  the  thunder  of  the  cannon. 

"The  mad  impulse  of  battle  was  upon  me,  as  upon  every 
one,  and  I  rushed  down  nearer  our  lines  to  get  a  better  view, 
also  from  the  instinctive  feeling  that  that  attack  must  be  re- 
pulsed, for  it  aimed  at  nothing  less  than  the  piercing  of  the 
centre  of  our  army.  The  front  melted  away  as  if  composed 
of  phantoms,  but  other  spectral  men  took  their  place,  the 
flashes  of  their  muskets  outlining  their  position.  On,  on 
they  came,  up  to  our  front  line  and  over  it.  At  the  awful 
point  of  impact  there  was  on  our  side  a  tall,  handsome  briga- 
dier, whose  black  eyes  glowed  like  coals,     flow  he  escaped 

Roe— VI— 15 


338  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

so  long  was  one  of  the  mysteries  of  battle.  His  voice  rang 
out  above  the  horrid  din  as  he  rallied  his  men,  who  were 
not  retreating,  but  were  simply  pushed,  back  by  the  still 
unspent  impetus  of  the  rebel  charge.  I  could  not  resist  his 
appeal,  or  the  example  of  his  heroism,  and,  seizing  a  mus- 
ket and  some  cartridges  belonging  to  a  fallen  soldier,  I  was 
soon  in  the  thick  of  it.  I  scarcely  know  what  happened  for 
the  next  few  moments,  so  terrible  were  the  excitement  and 
confusion.  Union  troops  and  officers  were  rushing  in  on  all 
sides,  without  much  regard  to  organization,  under  the  same 
impulse  which  had  actuated  me.  I  found  myself  firing 
point-blank  at  the  enemy  but  a  few  feet  away.  I  saw  a 
rebel  officer  waving  his  hat  upon  his  sword,  and  fired  at 
him.  Thank  Heaven  I  did  not  hit  him!  for,  although  he 
seemed  the  leading  spirit  in  the  charge,  I  would  not  like 
to  think  I  had  killed  so  brave  a  man.  In  spite  of  all  our 
efforts,  they  pushed  us  back,  back  past  the  battery  we  were 
trying  to  defend.  I  saw  a  young  officer,  not  far  away,  al- 
though wounded,  run  his  gun  a  little  forward  with  the  aid 
of  the  two  or  three  men  left  on  their  feet,  fire  one  more  shot, 
and  fall  dead.  Then  I  was  parrying  bayonet  thrusts  and 
seeking  to  give  them.  One  fierce- looking,  fellow  was  mak- 
ing a  lunge  at  me,  but  in  the  very  act  fell  over,  pierced  by 
a  bullet.  A  second  later  the  rebel  officer,  now  seen  to  be  a 
general,  had  his  hand  on  a  gun  and  was  shouting,  'Victory!' 
but  the  word  died  on  his  lips  as  he  fell,  for  at  this  moment 
there  was  a  rush  in  our  rear.  A  heavy  body  of  men  burst, 
like  a  tornado,  through  our  shattered  lines,  and  met  the 
enemy  in  a  hand-to-hand  conflict. 

ilI  had  been  nearly  run  over  in  this  charge,  and  now 
regained  my  senses  somewhat.  I  saw  that  the  enemy's  ad- 
vance was  checked,  that  the  spot  where  lay  the  Confederate 
general  would  mark  the  highest  point  attained  by  the  crim- 
son wave  of  Southern  valor,  for. Union  troops  were  concen- 
trating in  overwhelming  numbers.  The  wound  in  my  hand 
had  broken  out  afresh.  I  hastened  to  get  back  out  of  the 
melee,  the  crush,  and  the  'sing1  of  bullets,  and  soon  reached 


THE    GRAND    ASSAULT  339 

my  old  post  of  observation,  exhausted  and  panting.  The 
correspondents  were  still  there,  and  one  of  them  patted  me 
on  the  shoulder  in  a  way  meant  to  be  encouraging,  and 
offered  to  put  my  name  in  his  paper,  an  honor  which 
I  declined.  We  soon  parted,  unknown  to  each  other.  I 
learned,  however,  that  the  name  of  the  gallant  brigadier  was 
Webb,  and  that  he  had  been  wounded.  So  also  was  General 
Hancock  at  this  point. 

"The  enemy's  repulse  was  now  changed  into  a  rout. 
Prisoners  were  brought  in  by  hundreds,  while  those  re- 
treating across  the  plain  were  followed  by  death-dealing 
shot  and  shell  from  our  lines.  As  I  sat  resting  on  my 
rock  of  observation,  I  felt  that  one  could  not  exult  over 
such  a  foe,  and  I  was  only  conscious  of  profound  gratitude 
over  my  own  and  the  army's  escape.  Certainly  if  enough 
men,  animated  by  the  same  desperate  courage,  had  taken 
part  in  the  attack,  it  would  have  been  irresistible. 

"As  soon  as  I  saw  that  the  battle  at  this  point  was  prac- 
tically decided,  I  started  back  toward  our  left  with  the  pur- 
pose of  finding  my  regiment  and  our  surgeon,  for  my  hand 
had  become  very  painful.  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  meet 
with  my  command  as  it  was  being  moved  up  within  a  few 
rods  of  the  main  line  of  the  Third  Corps,  where  we  formed 
a  part  of  the  reserve.  Joining  my  little  company  and  see- 
ing their  familiar  faces  was  like  coming  home.  Their  wel- 
come, a  cup  of  coffee,  and  the  redressing  of  my  wound  made 
me  over  again.  1  had  to  answer  many  questions  from  the 
small  group  of  officers  remaining,  for  they,  kept  in  the  rear  all 
day,  had  not  yet  learned  much  about  the  battle  or  its  results. 

"While  I  gladdened  their  hearts  with  the  tidings  of  our 
victory,  our  surgeon  growled:  'I'll  have  you  put  under  ar- 
rest if  you  don't  keep  quiet.  You've  been  doing  more  than 
look  on,  or  your  hand  would  not  be  in  its  present  condition. ' 
"Soon  after  I  fell  asleep,  with  my  few  and  faithful  men 
around  me,  and  it  was  nearly  midnight  when  I  wakened." 

"It's  very  evident  that  none  of  your  present  audience  is 
inclined  to  sleep,"  Marian  exclaimed,  with  a  deep  breath. 


340  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"And  jet  it's  after  midnight,"  Mr.  Vosburgh  added. 
"I  iear  we  are  taxing  you,  captain,  far  beyond  your 
strength.     Your  cheeks,    Marian,    are  feverish." 

"I  do  not  feel  weary  yet,"  said  the  young  officer,  "if 
you  are  not.  Imagine  that  I  have  just  waked  up  from 
that  long  nap  of  which  I  have  spoken.  Miss  Marian  was 
such  a  sympathetic  listener  that  I  dwelt  much  longer  than 
I  intended  on  scenes  which  impressed  me  powerfully.  I 
have  not  yet  described  my  search  for  Strahan,  or  given 
Mr.  Merwyn  such  hints  as  my  experience  affords.  Hav- 
ing just  come  from  the  field,  I  do  not  see  that  he  could 
gain  much  by  undue  haste.  He  can  accomplish  quite  as 
much  by  leaving  sometime  to-morrow.  To  be  frank,  I 
believe  that  the  only  place  to  find  Strahan  is  under  a 
rebel  guard  going  South.  Our  troops  may  interpose  in 
time  to  release  him;  if  not,  he  will  be  exchanged  before 
long." 

"In  a  matter  of  this  kind  there  should  be  no  uncertainty 
which  can  possibly  be  removed,"  Merwyn  said,  in  a  husky 
voice.  "I  shall  now  save  time  by  obtaining  the  information 
you  can  give,  for  I  shall  know  better  how  to  direct  my 
search.      I  shall  certainly  go  in  the  morning." 

"Yes,  captain,"  said  Marian,  eagerly.  "Since  you  dis- 
claim weariness  we  could  listen  for  hours  yet.  You  are  a 
skilful  narrator,  for,  intensely  as  your  story  has  interested 
me,  you  have  reserved  its  climax  to  the  last,  even  though 
your  search  led  you  only  among  woful  scenes  in  the 
hospitals." 

"On  such  scenes  I  will  touch  as  lightly  as  possible,  and 
chiefly  for  Mr.  Merwyn's  benefit;  for  if  Strahan  had  been 
left  on  the  field,  either  killed  or  wounded,  I  do  not  see  how 
he  could  have  escaped  me."  Then,  with  a  smile  at  the 
young  girl,  he  added:  "Since  you  credit  me  with  some 
skill  as  a  story-teller,  and  since  my  story  is  so  long,  per- 
haps it  should  be  divided.  In  that  case  what  I  am  now 
about  to  relate  should  be  headed  with  the  words,  'My 
search  for   Strahan.'  " 


BLAUVELTS   SEARCH   FOR    STRAHAN  341 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

blauvelt's  search  for  strahax 

YOU  will  remember,"  said  the  captain,  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  that  he  might  take  up  the  thread  of 
his  narrative  consecutively,  "that  I  awoke  a  little 
before  midnight.  At  first  I  was  confused,  but  soon  all  that 
had  happened  came  back  to  me.  I  found  myself  a  part  of 
a  long  line  of  sleeping  men  that  formed  the  reserve.  Not 
further  than  from  here  across  the  street  was  another  line  in 
front  of  us.  Beyond  this  were  our  vigilant  pickets,  and 
then  the  vedettes  of  the  enemy.  All  seemed  strangely  still 
and  peaceful,  but  a  single  shot  would  have  brought  thou- 
sands of  men  to  their  feet.  The  moon  poured  a  soft  radi- 
ance over  all,  and  gave  to  the  scene  a  weird  and  terrible 
beauty.  The  army  was  like  a  sleeping  giant.  Would  its 
awakening  be  as  terrible  as  on  the  last  three  mornings? 
Then  I  thought  of  that  other  army  sleeping  beyond  our 
lines — an  army  which  neither  bugle  nor  the  thunder  of  all 
our  guns  could  awaken. 

"I  soon  distinguished  faint,  far-off  sounds  from  the  dis- 
puted territory  beyond  our  pickets.  Eising,  I  put  my  hand 
to  my  ear,  and  then  heard  the  words,  'Water!  water!' 

"They  were  the  cries  of  wounded  men  entreating  for  that 
which  would  quench  their  intolerable  thirst.  The  thought 
that  Strahan  might  be  among  this  number  stung  me  to  the 
very  quick,  and  I  hastened  to  the  senior  captain,  who  now 
commanded  the  regiment.  I  found'  him  alert  and  watchful, 
with  the  bugle  at  his  side,  for  he  felt  the  weight  of  respon- 
sibility so  suddenly  thrust  upon  him. 


342  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"  'Captain  Markham,'  I  said,  'do  you  hear  those  cries 
for  water?' 

"'Yes,'  he  replied,  sadly;  'I  have  heard  them  for 
hours. ' 

11  'Among  them  may  be  Strahan's  voice,'  I  said,  eagerly. 

"  'Granting  it,  what  could  we  do  ?  Our  pickets  are  way 
this  side  of  the  spot  where  he  fell. ' 

"  'Captain,'  I  cried,  'Strahan  was  like  a  brother  to  me. 
I  can't  rest  here  with  the  possibility  that  he  is  dying  yonder 
for  a  little  water.  I  am  relieved  from  duty,  you  know.  If 
one  of  my  company  will  volunteer  to  go  with  me,  will  you 
give  him  your  permission  ?  I  know  where  Strahan  fell,  and 
am  willing  to  try  to  reach  him  and  bring  him  in. ' 

"  'No,'  said  the  captain,  'I  can't  give  such  permission. 
You  might  be  fired  on  and  the  whole  line  aroused.  You 
can  go  to  our  old  brigade-commander,  however — he  now 
commands  the  division — and  see  what  he  says.  He's  back 
there  under  that  tree.  Of  course,  you  know,  I  sympathize 
with  your  feeling,  but  I  cannot  advise  the  risk.  Good 
heavens,   Blauvelt!   we've   lost  enough  officers  already.' 

"  'I'll  be  back  soon,'  I  answered. 

"To  a  wakeful  aid  I  told  my  errand,  and  he  aroused  the 
general,  who  was  silent  after  he  had  been  made  acquainted 
with  my  project. 

"  'I  might  bring  in  some  useful  information,'  I  added, 
hastily. 

"The  officer  knew  and  liked  Strahan,  but  said:  'I  shall 
have  to  put  my  permission  on  the  ground  of  a  reconnaissance. 
I  should  be  glad  to  know  if  any  changes  are  taking  place  on 
our  front,  and  so  would  my  superiors.  Of  course  you  un- 
derstand the  risk  you  run  when  once  beyond  our  pickets  ?' 
"'Strahan  would  do  as  much  and  more  for  me,'  I 
replied. 

"  '  Very  well;'  and  he  gave  me  permission  to  take  a  vol- 
unteer, at  the  same  time  ordering  me  to  report  to  him  on  my 
return. 

"I  went  back  to  our  regimental  commander,  who  growled, 


BLAUVELTS    SEARCH    FOR    STRAHAN  348 

s  Well,  if  you  will  go  I  suppose  you  will;  but  it  would  be  a 
foolhardy  thing  for  even  an  unwounded  man  to  attempt.' 

"I  knew  a  strong,  active  young  fellow  in  my  company 
who  would  go  anywhere  with  me,  and,  waking  him  up, 
explained  my  purpose.  He  was  instantly  on  the  qui  vive. 
I  procured  him  a  revolver,  and  we  started  at  once.  On 
reaching  our  pickets  we  showed  our  authority  to  pass,  and 
were  informed  that  the  enemy's  vedettes  ran  along  the  ridge 
on  which  we  had  fought  the  day  before.  Telling  our  pick- 
ets to  pass  the  word  not  to  fire  on  us  if  we  came  in  on  the 
run,  we  stole  down  into  the  intervening  valley. 

"The  moon  was  now  momentarily  obscured  by  clouds, 
and  this  favored  us.  My  plan  was  to  reach  the  woods  on 
which  the  right  of  our  regiment  had  rested.  Here  the 
shadows  would  be  deep,  and  our  chances  better.  Crouch- 
ing and  creeping  silently  from  bush  to  bush,  we  made  our 
gradual  progress  until  we  saw  a  sentinel  slowly  pacing  back 
and  forth  along  the  edge  of  the  woods.  Most  of  his  beat 
was  in  shadow,  and  there  were  bushes  and  rocks  extending 
almost  to  it.  We  watched  him  attentively  for  a  time,  and 
then  my  companion  whispered:  'The  Johnny  seems  half 
dead  with  sleep.  I  believe  I  can  steal  up  and  capture  him 
without  a  sound.  I  don't  see  how  we  can  get  by  him  as 
long  as  he  is  sufficiently  wide  awake  to  walk.' 

11  'Very  well.  You  have  two  hands,  and  my  left  is  al- 
most useless, '  I  said.  'Make  your  attempt  where  the  shadow 
is  deepest,  and  if  he  sees  you,  and  is  about  to  shoot,  see  that 
you  shoot  first.  I'll  be  with  you  instantly  if  you  succeed, 
and  cover  your  retreat  in  case  of  failure.' 

"In  a  moment,  revolver  in  hand,  he  was  gliding,  like  a 
shadow,  from  cover  to  cover,  and  it  was  his  good  fortune  to 
steal  up  behind  the  sleepy  sentinel,  grasp  his  musket,  and 
whisper,  with  his  pistol  against  his  head,  'Not  a  sound,  or 
you  are  dead. ' 

"The  man  was  discreet  enough  to  be  utterly  silent.  In 
a  moment  I  was  by  Rush's  side — that  was  the  name  of  the 
brave  fellow  who  accompanied  me — and  found  that  he  had 


344  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

disarmed  his  prisoner.  I  told  Rush  to  take  the  rebel's  mus- 
ket and  walk  up  and  down  the  beat,  and  especially  to  show 
himself  in  the  moonlight.  I  made  the  Johnny  give  me  his 
word  not  to  escape,  telling  him  that  he  would  be  shot  in- 
stantly if  he  did.  I  gave  him  the  impression  that  others 
were  watching  him.  I  then  tied  his  hands  behind  him  and 
fastened  him  to  a  tree  in  the  shade.  Feeling  that  1  had 
not  a  moment  to  lose,  I  passed  rapidly  down  through  the 
woods  bearing  to  the  left.  The  place  was  only  too  familiar, 
and  even  in  the  moonlight  I  could  recognize  the  still  forms 
of  some  of  my  own  company.  I  found  two  or  three  of  our 
regiment  still  alive,  and  hushed  them  as  I  pressed  water  to 
their  lips.  I  then  asked  if  they  knew  anything  about  Stra- 
han.  They  did  not.  Hastening  on  I  reached  the  spot,  by 
a  large  bowlder,  where  I  had  seen  Strahan  fall.  He  was  not 
there,  or  anywhere  near  it.  I  even  turned  up  the  faces  of 
corpses  in  my  wish  to  assure  myself;  for  our  dead  officers 
had  been  partially  stripped.  I  called  his  name  softly,  then 
more  distinctly,  and  at  last,  forgetful  in  my  distress,  loudly. 
Then  I  heard  hasty  steps,  and  crouched  down  behind  a 
bush,  with  my  hand  upon  my  revolver.  But  I  had  been 
seen. 

"A  man  approached  rapidly,  and  asked,  in  a  gruff  voice, 
'What  the  devil  are  you  doing  here  ?' 

"  'Looking  for  a  brother  who  fell  hereabout,'  I  replied, 
humbly. 

"  'You  are  a Yankee,7  was  the  harsh  reply,  'and  a 

prisoner;  I  know  your  Northern  tongue.' 

"1  fired  instantly,  and  wounded  him,  but  not  severely, 
for  he  fired  in  return,  and  the  bullet  whizzed  by  my  ear. 
My  next  shot  brought  him  down,  and  then  I  started  on  a 
dead  run  for  the  woods,  regained  Eush,  and,  with  our  pris- 
oner, we  stole  swiftly  toward  our  lines.  We  were  out  of 
sure  range  before  the  startled  pickets  of  the  enemy  realized 
what  was  the  matter.  A  few  harmless  shots  were  sent  after 
us,  and  then  we  gained  our  lines.  I  am  satisfied  that  the 
man  I  shot  was  a  rebel  officer  visiting  the  picket  line.     Our 


BLAUVELTS    SEARCH    FOR    STRAHAN  345 

firing  inside  their  lines  could  not  be  explained  until  the 
gap  caused  by  the  missing  sentinel  we  had  carried  off  was 
discovered. 

"Then  the}'  knew  that  'Yanks,'  as  they  called  us,  had 
been  within  their  lines.  Rush,  taking  the  sentinel's  place 
while  I  was  below  the  hill,  had  prevented  an  untimely  dis- 
covery of  our  expedition.  Perhaps  it  was  well  that  I  met 
the  rebel  officer,  for  he  was  making  directly  toward  the  spot 
where  I  had  left  my  companion. 

"The  poor  fellow  we  had  captured  was  so  used  up  that 
he  could  scarcely  keep  pace  with  us.  He  said  he  had  not 
had  any  rest  worth  speaking  of  for  forty-eight  hours.  I 
passed  through  our  lines,  now  alert,  and  reported  at  Divi- 
sion Headquarters.  The  general  laughed,  congratulated 
us,  and  said  he  was  glad  we  had  not  found  Strahan  among 
the  dead  or  seriously  wounded,  for  now  there  was  a  good 
chance  of  seeing  him  again. 

"I  turned  over  our  prisoner  to  him,  and  soon  ail  was 
quiet  again.  Captain  Markham,  of  our  regiment,  greeted 
us  warmly,  but  I  was  so  exhausted  that  I  contented  him 
with  a  brief  outline  of  what  had  occurred,  and  said  I  would 
tell  him  the  rest  in  the  morning.  Satisfied  now  that  Stra- 
han was  not  crying  for  water,  I  was  soon  asleep  again  by 
the  side  of  Rush,  and  did  not  waken  till  the  sun  was  well 
above  the  horizon. 

"I  soon  learned  that  the  vedettes  of  the  enemy  had  dis- 
appeared from  before  our  lines,  and  that  our  skirmishers 
were  advancing.  After  a  hasty  breakfast  I  followed  them, 
and  soon  reached  again  the  ground  I  had  visited  in  the 
night.  On  the  way  I  met  two  of  our  men  to  whom  I  had 
given  water.  The  other  man  had  meanwhile  died.  The 
survivors  told  me  positively  that  they  had  not  seen  or 
heard  of  Strahan  after  he  had  fallen.  They  also  said  that 
they  had  received  a  little  food  and  water  from  the  rebels, 
or  they  could  not  have  survived. 

"The  dead  were  still  unburied,  although  parties  were 
sent  out  within  our  picket  line  during  the  day  to  perform 


346  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

this  sad  duty,  and  I  searched  the  ground  thoroughly  for  a 
wide  distance,  acting  on  the  possibility  that  Strahan  might 
have  crawled  away  somewhere. 

"I  shall  not  describe  the  appearance  of  the  field,  or 
speak  of  my  feelings  as  I  saw  the  bodies  of  the  brave 
men  and  officers  of  our  regiment  who  had  so  long  been 
my  companions. 

"The  rest  of  my  story  is  soon  told.  From  our  surgeon 
I  had  positive  assurance  that  Strahan  had  not  been  brought 
to  our  corps  hospital.  Therefore,  I  felt  driven  to  one  of 
two  conclusions:  either  he  was  in  a  Confederate  hospital  on 
the  field  beyond  our  lines,  or  else  he  was  a  prisoner. 

"As  usual,  the  heavy  concussion  of  the  artillery  pro- 
duced a  rainstorm,  which  set  in  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
4th,  and  continued  all  night.  As  the  enemy  appeared  to 
be  intrenching  in  a  strong  position,  there  seemed  no  hope 
of  doing  any  more  that  day,  and  I  spent  the  night  in  a  piece 
of  woods  with  my  men. 

"On  the  dark,  dreary  morning  of  the  5th,  it  was  soon 
discovered  that  the  Confederate  army  had  disappeared. 
As  the  early  shades  of  the  previous  stormy  evening  had 
settled  over  the  region,  its  movement  toward  Virginia  had 
begun.  I  became  satisfied  before  night  that  Strahan  also 
was  southward  bound,  for,  procuring  a  horse,  I  rode  all 
day,  visiting  the  temporary  Confederate  hospitals.  Since 
they  had  left  their  own  severely  wounded  men,  they  cer- 
tainly would  not  have  taken  Union  soldiers  unable  to 
walk.  Not  content  with  my  first  search,  I  spent  the  next 
two  days  in  like  manner,  visiting  the  houses  in  Gettysburg 
and  vicinity,  until  satisfied  that  my  effort  was  useless. 
Then,  availing  myself  of  a  brief  leave  of  absence,  I  came 
north." 

Blauvelt  then  gave  Merwyn  some  suggestions,  adding: 
"If  you  find  no  trace  of  him  on  the  field,  I  would  advise, 
as  your  only  chance,  that  you  follow  the  track  of  Lee's 
army,  especially  the  roads  on  which  their  prisoners  were 
taken.      Strahan  might  have  given  out  by  the  way,   and 


BLAUVELTS   SEARCH    FOR    STRAHAN  347 

have   been   left   at   some   farmhouse   or  in   a   village.      It 
would   be   hopeless   to  go   beyond   the  Potomac." 

Rising,  he  concluded:  "Mark  my  words,  and  see  if  I  am 
not  right.  Strahan  is  a  prisoner,  and  will  be  exchanged." 
Then  with  a  laugh  and  a  military  salute  to  Marian,  he  said, 
"I  have  finished  my  report." 

"It  is  accepted  with  strong  commendation  and  con- 
gratulations," she  replied.  "I  shall  recommend  you  for 
promotion." 

"Good-by,  Miss  Vosburgh,"  said  Merwyn,  gravely.  "I 
shall  start  in  the  morning,  and  I  agree  with  Captain  Blau- 
velt  that  my  best  chance  lies  along  the  line  of  Lee's  retreat." 

Again  she  gave  him  her  hand  kindly  in  farewell;  but  her 
thought  was:  "How  deathly  pale  he  is!  This  has  been  a 
night  of  horrors  to  him — to  me  also;  yet  if  I  were  a  man  I 
know  I  could  meet  what  other  men  face." 

"She  was  kind,"  Merwyn  said  to  himself,  as  he  walked 
through  the  deserted  streets;  "but  I  fear  it  was  only  the 
kindness  of  pitiful  toleration.  It  is  plainer  than  ever  that 
she  adores  heroic  action,  that  her  ardor  in  behalf  of  the 
North  is  scarcely  less  than  that  of  my  mother  for  the  South, 
and  yet  she  thinks  I  am  not  brave  enough  to  face  a  musket. 
What  a  figure  I  make  beside  the  men  of  whom  we  have 
heard  to-night!  Well,  to  get  away,  to  be  constantly  em- 
ployed, is  my  only  hope.  I  believe  I  should  become  insane 
if  I  brooded  much  longer  at  home." 

In  spite  of  his  late  hours,  he  ordered  an  early  breakfast, 
proposing  to  start  without  further  delay. 

The  next  morning,  as  he  sat  down  to  the  table,  the  door- 
bell rang,  there  was  a  hasty  step  down  the  hall,  and  Strahan, 
pale  and  gaunt,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  burst  in  upon  him, 
and  exclaimed,  with  his  old  sang  froid  and  humor:  "Just  in 
time.  Yes,  thanks;  I'll  stay  and  take  a  cup  of  coffee  with 
you." 

Merwyn  greeted  him  with  mingled  wonder  and  glad- 
ness, yet  even  at  that  moment  the  thought  occurred  to  him: 
"Thwarted  on  every  side!     I  can  do  absolutely  nothing." 


348  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

After  Strahan  was  seated  Merwyn  said:  "Half  an  hour 
later  I  should  have  been  off  to  Gettysburg  in  search  of  you. 
Blauvelt  is  here,  and  says  he  saw  you  fall,  and  since  a  blank, 
so  far  as  you  are  concerned." 

1 1  Thank  God !     He  escaped  then  ?' ' 

"Yes;  but  is  wounded  slightly.  What  is  the  matter  with 
your  arm  ?" 

11  Only  a  bullet- hole  through  it.  That's  nothing  for  Get- 
tysburg. I  was  captured,  and  escaped  on  the  first  night's 
march.  Dark  and  stormy,  you  know.  But  it's  a  long  story, 
and  I'm  hungry  as  a  wolf.      Where's  Blauvelt?" 

"He's  a  guest  as  Mr.  Vosburgh's. " 

"Lucky  fellow!"  exclaimed  Strahan;  and  for  some  rea- 
son the  edge  of  his  appetite  was  gone. 

"Yes,  he  is  a  lucky  fellow,  indeed;  and  so  are  you," 
said  Merwyn,  bitterly.  "I  was  there  last  evening  till  after 
midnight;"  and  he  explained  what  had  occurred,  adding, 
"Blauvelt  trumpeted  your  praise,  and  on  the  night  of  the 
3d  he  went  inside  the  enemy's  picket  line  in  search  of  you, 
at  the  risk  of  his  life." 

"Heaven  bless  the  fellow!  Wait  till  I  spin  my  yarn. 
I  shall  give  him  credit  for  the  whole  victory." 

"Write  a  note  to  Miss  Vosburgh,  and  I'll  send  it  right 
down." 

"Confound  it,  Merwyn!  don't  you  see  I'm  winged? 
You  will  even  have  to  cut  my  food  for  me  as  if  I  were 
a  baby." 

"Very  well,  you  dictate  and  I'll  write.  By  the  way,  I 
have  a  note  for  you  in  my  pocket." 

Strahan  seized  upon  it  and  forgot  his  breakfast.  Tears 
suffused  his  blue  eyes  before  he  finished  it,  and  at  last  he 
said,  "Well,  if  you  had  found  me  in  some  hospital  this 
would  have  cured  me,  or  else  made  death  easy." 

Merwyn' s  heart  grew  heavy,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he 
had  told  himself  so  often  that  there  was  no  hope  for  him, 
and  he  thought,  "In  the  terrible  uncertainty  of  Strahan's 
fate  she  found  that  he  was  more  to  her  than  she  had  sup- 


BLAUVELT  S    SEARCH    FOR    STRAHAN  349 

posed,  and  probably  revealed  as  much  in  her  note,  which 
she  feared  might  reach  him  only  when  death  was  sure." 

The  glad  intelligence  was  despatched,  and  then  Merwyn 
said:  ''After  you  have  breakfasted  I  will  send  you  down 
in  my  coupe. ' ' 

"You  will  go  with  me?" 

"JSo.  There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  be  present  when 
Miss  Vosburgh  greets  her  friends.  I  remained  last  night 
by  request,  that  I  might  be  better  informed  in  prosecuting 
my  search. ' ' 

Strahan  changed  the  subject,  but  thought:  "She's  loyal 
to  her  friends.  Merwyn,  with  all  his  money,  has  made  no 
progress.  Her  choice  will  eventually  fall  on  Lane,  Blau- 
velt,  or  poor  little  me.  Thank  Heaven  I  gave  the  Johnnies 
the  slip!  The  other  fellows  shall  have  a  fair  field,  but  I 
want  one,  too. " 

Before  they  had  finished  their  breakfast  Blauvelt  came 
tearing  in,  and  there  was  a  fire  of  questions  between  the 
brother-officers. 

Tears  and  laughter  mingled  with  their  words;  but  at  last 
they  became  grave  and  quiet  as  they  realized  how  many 
brave  comrades  would  march  with  them  no  more. 

In  a  few  moments  Blauvelt  said,  "Come;  Miss  Marian 
said  she  would  not  take  a  mouthful  of  breakfast  till  you 
returned  with  me." 

Merwyn  saw  them  drive  away,  and  said,  bitterly, 
"Thanks  to  my  mother.  I  shall  never  have  any  part  in 
such  greetings. " 


350  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER   XXXYII 

STRAHAN' S    ESCAPE 

AFTER  Blauvelt  had  left  Mr.  Vosburgh's  breakfast- 
table  in  obedience  to  his  own  and  Marian's  wish  to 
see  Strahan  at  once,  the  young  girl  laughed  outright 
— she  would  laugh  easily  to-day— and  exclaimed: 

"Poor  Mr.  Merwyn!  He  is  indeed  doomed  to  inglorious 
inaction.  Before  he  could  even  start  on  his  search,  Strahan 
found  him.  His  part  in  this  iron  age  will  consist  only  in 
furnishing  the  sinews  of  war  and  dispensing  canned  deli- 
cacies in  the  hospitals.  I  do  feel  sorry  for  him,  for  last 
night  he  seemed  to  realize  the  fact  himself.  He  looked 
like  a  ghost,  back  in  the  shadow  that  he  sought  when 
Captain  Blauvelt's  story  grew  tragic.  I  believe  he  suffered 
more  in  hearing  about  the  shells  than  Mr.  Blauvelt  did  in 
hearing  and  seeing  them." 

"It's  a  curious  case,"  said  her  father,  musingly.  "He 
was  and  has  been  suffering  deeply  from  some  cause.  I  have 
not  fully  accepted  your  theory  yet." 

"Since  even  your  sagacity  can  construct  no  other,  I  am 
satisfied  that  I  am  right.  But  I  have  clone  scoffing  at  Mr. 
Merwyn,  and  should  feel  as  guilty  in  doing  so  as  if  I  had 
shown  contempt  for  physical  deformity.  I  have  become  so 
convinced  that  he  suffers  terribly  from  consciousness  of  his 
weakness,  that  I  now  pity  him  from  the  depths  of  my  heart. 
Just  think  of  a  young  fellow  of  his  intelligence  listening 
to  such  a  story  as  we  heard  last  night  and  of  the  inevitable 
contrasts  that  he  must  have  drawn!" 

"Fancy  also,"  said  her  father,  smiling,  "a  forlorn  lover 


STRAHAN'S    ESCAPE  351 

seeing  your  cheeks  aflame  and  your  eyes  suffused  with  tears 
of  sympathy  for  young  heroes,  one  of  whom  was  reciting  his 
epic.  Strahan  is  soon  to  repeat  his;  then  Lane  will  appear 
and  surpass  them  all." 

"Well/1  cried  Marian,  laughing,  ''you'll  admit  they  form 
a  trio  to  be  proud  of. ' ' 

k,0h,  yes,  and  will  have  to  admit  more,  I  suppose,  be- 
fore long.      Girls  never  fall  in  love  with  trios." 

"Nonsense,  papa,  they  are  all  just  like  brothers  to  me." 
Then  there  was  a  rush  of  tears  to  her  eyes,  and  she  said, 
brokenly,  "The  war  is  not  over  yet,  and  perhaps  not  one  of 
them  will  survive." 

''Come,  my  dear,"  her  father  reassured  her,  gently,  "you 
must  imitate  your  soldier  friends,  and  take  each  day  as 
it  comes.  .Remembering  what  they  have  already  passed 
through,  I  predict  that  they  all  survive.  The  bravest  men 
are  the  most  apt  to  escape. ' ' 

Marian's  greeting  of  Strahan  was  so  full  of  feeling,  and 
so  many  tears  suffused  her  dark  blue  eyes,  that  they  inspired 
false  hopes  in  his  breast  and  unwarranted  fears  in  that  of 
Blauvelt.  The  heroic  action  and  tragic  experience  of  the 
young  and  boyish  Strahan  had  touched  the  tenderest  chords 
in  her  heart.  Indeed,  as  she  stood,  holding  his  left  hand  in 
both  her  own,  they  might  easily  have  been  taken  for  brother 
and  sister.  His  eyes  were  almost  as  blue  as  hers,  and  his 
brow,  where  it  had  not  been  exposed  to  the  weather,  as 
fair.  She  knew  of  his  victory  over  himself.  Almost  at  the 
same  time  with  herself,  he  had  cast  behind  him  a  weak, 
selfish,  frivolous  life,  assuming  a  manhood  which  she  under- 
stood better  than  others.  Therefore,  she  had  for  him  a  ten- 
derness, a  gentleness  of  regard,  which  her  other  friends  of 
sterner  natures  could  not  inspire.  Indeed,  so  sisterly  was 
her  feeling  that  she  could  have  put  her  arms  about  his  neck 
and  welcomed  him  with  kisses,  without  one  quickening 
throb  of  the  pulse.  But  he  did  not  know  this  then,  and 
his  heart  bounded  with   baseless  hopes. 

Poor  Blauvelt  had  never  cherished  many,  and  the  old 


352  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

career  with  which  he  had  tried  to  be  content  defined  itself 
anew.  He  would  fight  out  the  war,  and  then  give  himself 
up  to  his  art. 

He  could  be  induced  to  stay  only  long  enough  to  finish 
his  breakfast,  and  then  said:  "Strahan  can  tell  me  the  rest 
of  his  story  over  the  camp-fire  before  long.  My  mother  has 
now  the  first  claim,  and  I  must  take  a  morning  train  in 
order  to  reach  home  to-night." 

"I  also  must  go,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Vosburgh,  looking  at 
his  watch,  "and  shall  have  to  hear  your  story  at  second 
hand  from  Marian.  .Rest  assured,"  he  added,  laughing, 
"it  will  lose  nothing  as  she  tells  it  this  evening." 

"And  I  order  you,  Captain  Blauvelt,  to  make  this  house 
your  headquarters  when  you  are  in  town,"  said  Marian, 
giving  his  hand  a  warm  pressure  in  parting.  Strahan  ac- 
companied his  friend  to  the  depot,  then  sought  his  family 
physician  and  had  his  wound  dressed. 

"I  advise  that  you  reach  your  country  home  soon,"  said 
the  doctor;  "your  pulse  is  feverish." 

The  young  officer  laughed  and  thought  he  knew  the 
reason  better  than  his  medical  adviser,  and  was  soon  at 
the  side  of  her  whom  he  believed  to  be  the  exciting  cause 
of  his  febrile  symptoms. 

"Oh,"  he  exclaimed,  throwing  himself  on  a  lounge, 
"isn't  this  infinitely  better  than  a  stifling  Southern  prison?" 
and  he  looked  around  the  cool,  shadowy  drawing-room,  and 
then  at  the  smiling  face  of  his  fair  hostess,  as  if  there  were 
nothing  left  to  be  desired. 

"You  have  honestly  earned  this  respite  and  home  visit," 
she  said,  taking  a  low  chair  beside  him,  "and  now  I'm  just 
as  eager  to  hear  your  story  as  I  was  to  listen  to  that  of  Cap- 
tain Blauvelt,  last  night." 

"No  more  eager?"  he  asked,  looking  wistfully  into  her 
face. 

"That  would  not  be  fair,"  she  replied,  gently.  "How 
can  I  distinguish  between  my  friends,  when  each  one  sur- 
passes even  my  ideal  of  manly  action  ?" 


STRAHAS'S    ESCAPE  353 

"You  will  some  day, ' '  lie  said,  thoughtfully.  ' ' You  can- 
not help  doing  so.  It  is  the  law  of  nature  I  know  I  can 
never  be  the  equal  of  Lane  and  Blauvelt. " 

"Arthur,"   she  said,  gravely,  taking  his  hand,  "let  me 
be  frank  with  you.     It  will  be  best  for  us  both.     I  love  you 
too  dearly,   I   admire  and  respect  you   too  greatlv,    to   be 
untrue  to  your  best  interests  even  for  a  moment.      What's 
more,   I  am   absolutely   sure  that  you   only  wish  what  is 
right  and  best  for  me.     Look  into  my  eyes.     Do  you  not 
see    that    if    your    name    was    Arthur  Yosburgh,    I   could 
scarcely  feel  differently  ?     I  do  love  you  more  than  either 
Mr.  Lane  or  Mr.    Blauvelt.      They  are  my   friends  in  the 
truest  and   strongest  sense  of  the  word,   but— let  me  tell 
you    the   truth— you    have    come   to   seem    like  a  younger 
brother.      We  must  be  about  the  same  age,   but  a  woman 
is  always  older  in  her  feelings  than  a  man,  I  think.     I  don't 
say  this  to  claim  any  superiority,  but  to  explain  why  I  feel 
as  I  do.      Since  I  came   to  know — to  understand  you in- 
deed, I  may  say,  since  we  both  changed  from  what  we  were, 
my  thoughts  have  followed  you  in  a  way  that  they  would 
a  brother  but  a  year  or  two  younger  than  myself — that  is, 
so  far  as  I  can  judge,  having  had  no  brother.     Don't  you 
understand  me  ?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  laughing  a  little  ruefully,  uup  to 
date." 

"Very  well,"  she  added,  with  an  answering  laugh,  "let 
it  be  then  to  date.  I  shall  not  tell  you  that  I  feel  like  a 
sister  without  being  as  frank  as  one.  I  have  never  loved 
any  one  in  the  way—  Oh,  well,  you  know.  I  don't  believe 
these  stern  times  are  conducive  to  sentiment.  Come,  tell 
me  your  story  ' ' 

"But  you'll  give  me  an  equal  chance  with  the  others," 
he  pleaded. 

She  now  laughed  outright.  "How  do  I  know  what  I 
shall  do?"  she  asked.  "I  may  come  to  you  some  day  for 
sympathy  and  help.  According  to  the  novels,  people  are 
stricken  down  as  if  by  one  of  your  hateful  shells  and  all 


354  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

broken  up.  I  don't  know,  but  I'm  inclined  to  believe  that 
while  a  girl  can  withhold  her  love  from  an  unworthy  object, 
she  cannot  deliberately  give  it  here  or  there  as  she  chooses. 
Now  am  I  not  talking  to  you  like  a  sister  ?" 

"Yes,  too  much  so — M 

"Oh,  come,  1  have  favored  you  more  highly  than  any 
one. " 

"Do  not  misunderstand  me,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "I'm 
more  grateful  than  I  can  tell  you,  but — " 

"But  tell  me  your  story.  There  is  one  thing  I  can  give 
you  at  once — the  closest  attention." 

"  Very  well.  I  only  wish  you  were  like  one  of  the  ene- 
my's batteries,  so  I  could  take  you  by  storm.  I'd  face  aU 
the  guns  that  were  at  Gettysburg  for  the  chance." 

"Arthur,  dear  Arthur,  I  do  know  what  you  have  faced 
from  a  simple  sense  of  duty  and  patriotism.  Blauvelt  was 
loyal,  generous  friend,  and  he  has  told  us." 

"You  are  wrong.  'The  girl  I  left  behind  me'  was  the 
cor ps-de-  reserve  from  which  I  drew  my  strength.  I  believe 
the  same  was  true  of  Blauvelt,  and  a  better,  braver  fellow 
never  drew  breath.  He  would  make  a  better  officer  than 
I,  for  he  is  cooler  and  has  more  brains." 

"Now  see  here,  Major  Strahan,"  cried  Marian,  in  mock 
dignity,  "as  your  superior  officer,  I  am  capable  of  judging 
of  the  merits  of  you  both,  and  neither  of  you  can  change 
my  estimate.  You  are  insubordinate,  and  I  shall  put  you 
under  arrest  if  you  don't  tell  me  how  you  escaped  at  once. 
You  have  kept  a  woman's  curiosity  in  check  almost  as  long 
as  your  brave  regiment  held  the  enemy,  and  that's  your 
greatest  achievement  thus  far.  Proceed.  Captain  Blauvelt 
has  enabled  me  to  keep  an  eye  on  you  till  you  fell  and  the 
enemy  charged  over  you.  Now  you  know  just  where  to 
begin." 

"My  prosaic  story  is  soon  told.  Swords  and  pike-staffs! 
what  a  little  martinet  you  are !  Well,  the  enemy  was  almost 
on  me.  I  could  see  their  flushed,  savage  faces.  Even  in 
that  moment  I  thought  of  you  and  whispered,  'Good- by,' 


STRAHAN'S    ESCAPE  355 

and  a  prayer  to  God  for  vour  happiness  flashed  through  my 
mind." 

"Arthur,  don't  talk  that  way.  I  can't  stand  it;"  and 
there  was  a  rush  of  tears  to  her  eyes. 

"I'm  beginning  just  where  you  told  me  to.  The  next 
second  there  was  a  sting  in  my  right  arm,  then  something 
knocked  me  over  and  I  lost  consciousness  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. I  am  satisfied,  also,  that  I  was  grazed  by  a  bullet 
that  tore  my  scabbard  from  my  side.  When  I  came  to  my 
senses,  I  crawled  behind  a  rock  so  as  not  to  be  shot  by  our 
own  men,  and  threw  away  my  sword.  I  didn't  want  to 
surrender  it,  you  know.  Soon  after  a  rebel  jerked  me 
to  my  feet. 

"  'Can  you  stand  ?'  he  asked. 

14  'I  will  try,'  I  answered. 

"  lJoin  that  squad  of  prisoners,  then,  and  travel  right 
smart. ' 

"I  staggered  away,  too  dazed  for  many  clear  ideas,  and 
with  others  was  hurried  about  half  a  mile  away  to  a  place 
filled  with  the  rebel  wounded.  Here  a  Union  soldier,  who 
happened  to  have  some  bandages  with  him,  dressed  my  arm. 
The  Confederate  surgeons  had  more  than  they  could  do  to 
look  after  their  own  men.  Just  before  dark  all  the  prisoners 
who  were  able  to  walk  were  led  into  a  large  field,  and  a 
strong  guard  was  placed  around  us. 

"Although  my  wound  was  painful,  I  obtained  some 
sleep,  and  awoke  the  next  morning  with  the  glad  con- 
sciousness that  life  with  its  chances  was  still  mine.  We 
had  little  enough  to  eat  that  day,  and  insufficient  water  to 
drink.  This  foretaste  of  the  rebel  commissariat  was  enough 
for  me,  and  1  resolved  to  escape  if  it  were  a  possible 
thing." 

"You  wanted  to  see  me  a  little,  too,  didn't  you?  Never- 
theless, you  shall  have  a  good  lunch  before  long." 

"Such  is  my  fate.  First  rebel  iron  and  now  irony.  I 
began  to  play  the  role  of  feebleness  and  exhaustion,  and  it 
did  not  require  much  effort.     Of  course  we  were  all  on  the 


356  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

qui  vive  to  see  what  would  happen  next,  and  took  an  in- 
tense interest  in  the  fight  of  the  3d,  which  Blauvelt  has 
described.  The  scene  of  the  battle  was  hidden  from  us, 
but  we  gathered,  from  the  expression  of  our  guards'  faces 
and  the  confusion  around  us,  that  all  had  not  gone  to  the 
enemy's  mind,  and  so  were  hopeful.  In  the  evening  we 
were  marched  to  the  outskirts  of  Gettysburg  and  kept  there 
till  the  afternoon  of  the  4th,  when  we  started  toward  Vir- 
ginia. I  hung  back  and  dragged  myself  along,  and  so  was 
fortunately  placed  near  the  rear  of  the  column,  and  we 
plodded  away.  I  thanked  Heaven  that  the  night  promised 
to  be  dark  and  stormy,  and  was  as  vigilant  as  an  Indian, 
looking  for  my  chance.  It  seemed  long  in  coming,  for  at 
first  the  guards  were  very  watchful.  At  one  point  I  pur- 
posely stumbled  and  fell,  hoping  to  crawl  into  the  bushes, 
but  a  rebel  was  right  on  me  and  helped  me  up  with  his 
bayonet." 

"klOh,  Arthur-!" 
lk  Yes,  the  risks  were  great,  for  we  had  been  told  that  the 
first  man  who  attempted  to  leave  the  line  would  be  shot.  I 
lagged  behind  as  if  I  could  not  keep  up,  and  so  my  vigilant 
guard  got  ahead  of  me,  and  I  proposed  to  try  it  on  with  the 
next  fellow.  I  did  not  dare  look  around,  for  my  only  chance 
was  to  give  the  impression  that  I  fell  from  utter  exhaustion. 
We  were  winding  around  a  mountain-side  and  I  saw  some 
dark  bushes  just  beyond  me.  I  staggered  toward  them  and 
fell  just  behind  them,  and  lay  as  if  I  were  dead. 

k'A  minute  passed,  then  another,  and  then  there  was  no 
other  sound  than  the  tramp  and  splash  in  the  muddy  road. 
I  edged  still  further  and  further  from  this,  my  head  down 
the  steep  bank,  and  soon  found  myself  completely  hidden. 
The  comrade  next  to  me  either  would  not  tell  if  he  under- 
stood my  ruse,  or  else  was  so  weary  that  he  had  not  noticed 
me.  If  the  guard  saw  me,  he  concluded  that  I  was  done  for 
and  not  worth  further  bother. 

"After  the  column  had  passed,  I  listened  to  hear  if  others 
were  coming,  then  stumbled  down  the  mountain,  knowing 


STRAHAy'S    ESCAPE  357 

that  my  best  chance  was  to  strike  some  stream  and  follow 
the  current.     It  would  take  me  into  a  valley  where  I  would 
be  apt  to  find  houses.     At  last  I  became  so  weary  that  I  lay 
down  in  a  dense  thicket  and  slept  till  morning.     I  awoke  as 
hungry  as  a  famished  wolf,  and  saw  nothing  but  a  dense 
forest  on  every   side.      But  the   brook  murmured    that  it 
would  guide  me,  and  I   now   made  much  better  progress 
in  the  daylight.     At  last  I  reached  a  little  clearing  and  a 
wood-chopper's  cottage.     The  man  was  away,  but  his  wife 
received  me  kindly  and  said  I  was  welcome  to  such  poor 
fare  and  shelter  as  they  had.     She  gave  me  a  glass  of  milk 
and  some  fried  bacon  and  corn- bread,  and  I  then  learned 
all  about  the  nectar  and  ambrosia  of  the  gods.     In  the  even- 
ing her  husband  came  home  and  said  that  Lee  had  been 
whipped  by  the  Yanks,  and  that  he  was  retreating  rapidly, 
whereon  I  drank  to  the  health  of  my  host  nearly  all  the 
milk  given  that   night   by  his  lean  little  cow.     He  was  a 
good-natured,  loutish  sort  of  fellow,  and  promised  to  guide 
me  in  a  day  or  two  to  the  west  of  the  line  of  retreat  °   He 
seemed  very  fearful  of  falling  in  with  the  rebels,  and  I  cer- 
tainly had  seen  all  I  wished  of  them  for  the  present,  so  I 
was  as  patient  as  he  desired.     At  last  he  kept  his  word  and 
guided  me  to  a  village  about  six  miles  away.     I  learned 
that  Confederate  cavalry  had  been  there  within  twenty-four 
hours,  and,  tired  as  I  was,   I  hired  a  conveyance  and  was 
driven   to  another  village   further  to  the  northwest,  for  I 
now  had  a  morbid   horror  of    being  recaptured.     After  a 
night's  rest  in  a  small  hamlet,  I  was  taken  in  a  light  wagon 
to  the  nearest  railway  station,  and  came  on  directly,  arriv- 
ing here  about  six  this  morning.     Finding  our  house  closed, 
I  made  a  descent  on  Merwyn.     I  telegraphed  mother  last 
evening  that  I  should  be  home  this  afternoon." 

"You  should  have  telegraphed  me,  also,"  said  Marian, 
reproachfully.  "You  would  have  saved  me  some  very  sad 
hours.     I  did  not  sleep  much  last  night." 

"Forgive  me.  I  thoughtlessly  wished  to  give  you  a  sur- 
prise, and  I  could  scarcely   believe  you  cared  so  much." 


358  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"You  will  always  believe  it  now,  Arthur.  Merciful 
Heaven!    what  risks  you  have  had!" 

"You  have  repaid  me  a  thousand-fold.  Friend,  sister, 
or  wife,  you  will  always  be  to  me  my  good  genius." 

"I  wish  the  war  was  over,"  she  said,  sadly.  "I  have 
not  heard  from  Captain  Lane  for  weeks,  and  after  the  battle 
the  first  tidings  from  Blauvelt  was  that  he  was  wounded 
and  that  you  were  wounded  and  missing.  I  can't  tell  you 
how  oppressed  I  was  with  fear  and  foreboding." 

"How  about  Lane?"   Strahan  asked,  with  interest. 

She  told  him  briefly  the  story  she  had  heard  and  of  the 
silence  which  had  followed. 

"He  leads  us  all,"  was  his  response.  "If  he  survives 
the  war,  he  will  win  you,  Marian." 

"You  suggest  a  terrible  'if,'  and  there  may  be  many 
others.  I  admit  that  he  has  kindled  my  imagination  more 
than  any  man  I  ever  saw,  but  you,  Arthur,  have  touched 
my  heart.  I  could  not  speak  to  him,  had  he  returned,  as  I 
am  now  speaking  to  you.  I  have  the  odd  feeling  that  you 
and  I  are  too  near  of  kin  to  be  anything  to  each  other  ex- 
cept just  what  we  are.  You  are  so  frank  and  true  to  me, 
that  I  can't  endure  the  thought  of  misleading  you,  even 
unintentionally." 

"Very  well,  I'll  grow  up  some  day,  and  as  long  as  you 
remain  free,  I'll  not  give  up  hope." 

"Foolish  boy!  Grow  up,  indeed!  Who  mounted  his 
horse  in  that  storm  of  shells  and  bullets  in  spite  of  friendly 
remonstrances,  and  said,  ;The  men  must  see  us  to-day'? 
What  more  could  any  man  do?  I'm  just  as  proud  of  you 
as  if  my  own  brother  had  spoken  the  words;"  and  she  took 
his  hand  caressingly,  then  exclaimed,  "You  are  feverish." 
A  second  later  her  hand  was  on  his  brow,  and  she 
sprang  up  and  said,  earnestly,  "You  should  have  atten- 
tion at  once." 

"I  fancy  the  doctor  was  right  after  all, "  said  Strahan, 
rising  also.  "I'll  take  the  one  o'clock  train  and  be  at  home 
in  a  couple  of  hours." 


STRAHAy'S    ESCAPE  359 

"I  wish  you  would  stay.  You  can't  imagine  what  a 
devoted  nurse  I'll  be." 

'k  Please  don't  tempt  me.  It  wouldn't  be  best.  Mamma 
is  counting  the  minutes  before  my  return  now,  and  it  will 
please  her  if  I  come  on  an  earlier  train.  Mountain  air  an;i 
rest  will  soon  bring  me  around,  and  I  can  run  down  often. 
I  think  the  fever  proceeds  simply  from  my  wound,  which 
hasn't  had  the  best  care.     I  don't  feel  seriously  ill  at  all.; 

She  ordered  iced  lemonade  at  once,  lunch  was  hastened, 
and  then  she  permitted  him  to  depart,  with  the  promise  that 
he  would  write  a  line  that  very  night. 


360  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

A    LITTLE   REBEL 

THE  next  day  Marian  received  a  note  from  Strahan 
saying  that  some  bad  symptoms  had  developed  in 
connection  with  his  wound,  but  that  his  physician 
had  assured  him  that  if  he  would  keep  absolutely  quiet  in 
body  and  mind  for  a  week  or  two  they  would  pass  away, 
concluding  with  the  words:  "I  have  promised  mother  to 
obey  orders,  and  she  has  said  that  she  would  write  you 
from  time  to  time  about  me.  I  do  not  think  I  shall 
be  very  ill." 

"Oh,  dear!"  exclaimed  Marian  to  her  father  at  dinner, 
"what  times  these  are!  You  barely  escape  one  cause  of 
deep  anxiety  before  there  is  another.  Now  what  is  trou- 
bling you,  that  your  brow  also  is  clouded  ?' ' 

"Is  it  not  enough  that  your  troubles  trouble  me?" 

"There's  something  else,  papa." 

"Well,  nothing  definite.  The  draft,  you  know,  begins 
on  Saturday  of  this  week.  I  shall  not  have  any  rest  of 
mind  till  this  ordeal  is  over.  Outwardly  ail  is  compara- 
tively quiet.  So  is  a  powder  magazine  till  a  spark  ignites 
it.  This  unpopular  measure  of  the  draft  is  to  be  enforced 
while  all  our  militia  regiments  are  away.  I  know  enough 
about  what  is  said  and  thought  by  thousands  to  fear  the 
consequences.  I  wish  you  would  spend  a  couple  of  weeks 
with  your  mother  in  that  quiet  New  England  village." 

"No,  papa,  not  till  you  tell  me  that  all  danger  is  past. 
How  much  I  should  have  missed  during  the  past  few  days 
if  I  had  been  away !     But  for  my  feeling  that  my  first  duty 


A    LITTLE    REBEL  361 

is  to  you,  I  should  have  entreated  for  jour  permission  to 
become  a  hospital  nurse.  Papa,  women  should  make 
sacrifices  and  take  risks  in  these  times  as   well  as  men." 

"  Well,  a  few  more  days  will  tell  the  story.  If  the  draft 
passes  off  quietly  and  our  regiments  return,  I  shall  breathe 
freely  once  more. " 

A  letter  was  brought  in,  and  she  exclaimed,  "Captain 
Lane's  handwriting!"  She  tore  open  the  envelope  and 
learned  little  more  at  that  time  than  that  he  had  escaped, 
reached  our  lines,  and  gone  to  Washington,  where  he  was 
under  the  care  of  a  skilful  surgeon.  "In  escaping,  my 
wound  broke  out  again,  but  I  shall  soon  be  able  to  travel, 
and  therefore  to  see  you." 

In  order  to  account  foi  Lane's  absence  and  silence  we 
must  take  up  the  thread  of  his  story  where  Zeb  had  dropped 
it.     The  cavalry  force  of  which  Captain  Lane  formed  a  part 
retired,  taking  with  it  the  prisoners  and  such  of  the  wounded 
as  could  bear  transportation:  also  the  captured  thief.     Lane 
was  prevented  by  his  wound  from  carrying  out  his  threat, 
which  his  position  as  chief  officer  of  an  independent  com- 
mand would  have  entitled   him   to  do.     The  tides  of  war 
swept   away  to   the  north,  and  he  was  left  with  the  more 
seriously  wounded  of  both  parties  in  charge  of  the  assistant 
surgeon  of  his  regiment.     As  the  shades  of  evening  fell,  the 
place  that  had  resounded  with  war's  loud  alarms,  and  had 
been  the  scene  of  so  much  bustle  and  confusion,  resumed 
much  of  its  old  aspect  of  quiet  and  seclusion.     The  marks 
of  conflict,  the  evidence  of  changes,  and  the  new  conditions 
under  which  the  family  would  be  obliged  to  live,  were  only 
too  apparent.     The  grass  on  the  lawn  was  trampled  down, 
and  there  were  new-made  graves  in  the  edge  of  the  grove. 
Fences  were  prostrate,  and  partly  burned.     Horses  and  live 
stock  had  disappeared.     The  negro   quarters  were  nearly 
empty,    the    majority    of    the   slaves    having   followed    the 
Union  column.     Confederate  officers,   who  were  welcome, 
honored  guests  but  a  few  hours  before,  were  on  their  way 
to  Washington  as  prisoners.     Desperately  wounded  and  dy- 

Roe— VI— 16 


362  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ing  men  were  in  the  out- buildings,  and  a  Union  officer, 
the  one  who  had  led  the  attacking  party  and  precipitated 
these  events,  had  begun  his  long  light  for  life  in  the  man- 
sion itself — a  strange  and  unexpected  guest. 

Mrs.  Barkdale,  the  mistress  of  the  house,  could  scarcely 
rally  from  her  nervous  shock  or  maintain  her  courage,  in 
view  of  the  havoc  made  by  the  iron  heel  of  war.  Miss 
.Roberta's  heart  was  full  of  bitterness  and  impotent  revolt. 
She  had  the  courage  and  spirit  of  her  race,  but  she  could 
not  endure  defeat,  and  she  chafed  in  seclusion  and  anger 
while  her  mother  moaned  and  wept.  Miss  Suwanee  now 
became  the  leading  spirit. 

"We  can't  help  what's  happened,  and  I  don't  propose  to 
sit  down  and  wring  my  hands  or  pace  my  room  in  useless 
anger.  We  were  all  for  war,  and  now  we  know  what  war 
means.  If  1  were  a  man  I'd  fight;  being  only  a  woman,  1 
shall  do  what  I  can  to  retrieve  our  losses  and  make  the  most 
of  what's  left.  After  all,  we  have  not  suffered  half  so  much 
as  hundreds  of  other  families.  General  Lee  will  soon  give 
the  Northerners  some  of  their  own  medicine,  and  before 
the  summer  is  over  will  conquer  a  peace,  and  then  we  shall 
be  proud  of  our  share  in  the  sacrifices  which  so  many  of 
our  people  have  made." 

"I  wouldn't  mind  any  sacrifice — no,  not  of  our  home 
itself — if  we  had  won  the  victory,"  Roberta  replied.  tlBut 
to  have  been  made  the  instrument  of  our  friends'  defeat! 
It's  too  cruel.  And  then  to  think  that  the  man  who  wrought 
all  this  destruction,  loss,  and  disgrace  is  under  this  very 
roof,  and  must  stay  for  weeks,  perhaps!" 

"Roberta,  you  are  unjust,"  cried  Suwanee.  "Captain 
Lane  proved  himself  to  be  a  gallant,  considerate  enemy, 
and  you  know  it.  What  would  you  have  him  do?  Play 
into  our  hands  and  compass  his  own  defeat  ?  fie  only  did 
what  our  officers  would  have  done.  The  fact  that  a  North- 
ern officer  could  be  so  brave  and  considerate  was  a  revela- 
tion to  me.  We  and  all  our  property  were  in  his  power, 
and  his  course  was  full  of  courtesy  toward  all  except  the 


A  LITTLE   REBEL  363 

armed  foes  who  were  seeking  to  destroy  him.  The  moment 
that  even  these  became  unarmed  prisoners  he  treated  them 
with  great  leniency.  Because  we  had  agreed  to  regard 
Northerners  as  cowards  and  boors  evidently  doesn't  make 
them  so." 

"You  seem  wonderfully  taken  with  this  Captain  Lane." 

"No,"  cried  the  girl,  with  one  of  her  irresistible  laughs; 
"but  our  officer  friends  would  have  been  taken  with  him  if 
he  had  not  been  wounded.  I'm  a  genuine  Southern  girl, 
so  much  so  that  I  appreciate  a  brave  foe  and  true  gentle- 
man. He  protected  us  and  our  home  as  far  as  he  could, 
and  he  shall  have  the  best  hospitality  which  this  home  can 
now  afford.     Am  I  not  right,  mamma?" 

"Yes,  my  dear,  even  our  self-respect  would  not  permit 
us  to  adopt  any  other  course." 

"You  will  feel  as  I  do,  Roberta,  after  your  natural  grief 
and  anger  pass;"  and  she  left  the  room  to  see  that  their 
wounded  guest  had  as  good  a  supper  as  she  could  produce 
from  diminished  resources. 

The  surgeon,  whom  she  met  in  the  hall,  told  her  that  his 
patient  was  feverish  and  a  "little  flighty"  at  times,  but  that 
he  had  expected  this,  adding:  "The  comfort  of  his  room 
and  good  food  will  bring  him  around  in  time.  He  will  owe 
his  life  chiefly  to  your  hospitality,  Miss  Barkdale,  for  a 
little  thing  would  have  turned  the  scale  against  him. 
Chicken  broth  is  all  that  I  wish  him  to  have  to-night, 
thanks." 

And  so  the  process  of  care  and  nursing  began.  The 
Union  colonel  had  left  a  good  supply  of  coffee,  sugar,  and 
coarse  rations  for  the  wounded  men,  and  Suwanee  did  her 
best  to  supplement  these,  accomplishing  even  more  by 
her  kindness,  cheerfulness,  and  winsome  ways  than  by  any 
other  means.  She  became,  in  many  respects,  a  hospital 
nurse,  and  visited  the  wounded  men,  carrying  delicacies 
to  all  alike.  She  wrote  letters  for  the  Confederates  and 
read  the  Bible  to  those  willing  to  listen.  Soon  all  were 
willing,  and   blessed  her  sweet,  sunny  face.     The  wounds 


364  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

of  some  were  incurable,  and,  although  her  lovely  face  grew 
pale  indeed  in  the  presence  of  death,  she  soothed  their  last- 
moments  with  the  gentlest  ministrations.  There  was  not  a 
man  of  the  survivors,  Union  or  rebel,  but  would  have  shed 
his  last  drop  of  blood  for  her.  Roberta  shared  in  these 
tasks,  but  it  was  not  in  her  nature  to  be  so  impartial.  Even 
among  her  own  people  she  was  less  popular.  Among  the 
soldiers,  on  both  sides,  who  did  the  actual  righting,  there 
was  not  half  the  bitterness  that  existed  generally  among 
non-combatants  and  those  Southern  men  who  never  met  the 
enemy  in  fair  battle;  and  now  there  was  a  good-natured 
truce  between  the  brave  Confederates  and  those  who  had 
perhaps  wounded  them,  while  all  fought  a  battle  with  the 
common  foe— death.  Therefore  the  haggard  faces  of  all 
lighted  up  with  unfeigned  pleasure  when  ll  Missy  S'wanee, " 
as  they  had  learned  from  the  negroes  to  call  her,  appeared 
among  them. 

But  few  slaves  were  left  on  the  place,  and  these  were  old 
and  feeble  ones  who  had  not  ventured  upon  the  unknown 
waters  of  freedom.  The  old  cook  remained  at  her  post,  and 
an  old  man  and  woman  divided  their  time  between  the 
house  and  the  garden,  Suwanee's  light  feet  and  quick 
hands  relieving  them  of  the  easier  labors  of  the  mansion. 

Surgeon  McAllister  was  loud  in  his  praises  of  her  gen- 
eral goodness  and  her  courtesy  at  the  table,  to  which  he 
was  admitted;  and  Lane,  already  predisposed  toward  a 
favorable  opinion,  entertained  for  her  the  deepest  respect 
and  gratitude,  inspired  more  by  her  kindness  to  his  men 
than  by  favors  to  himself.  Yet  these  were  not  few,  for  she 
often  prepared  delicacies  with  her  own  hands  and  brought 
them  to  his  door,  while  nearly  every  morning  she  arranged 
flowers  and  sent  them  to  his  table. 

Thus  a  week  passed  away.  The  little  gathering  of  pros- 
trate men,  left  in  war's  trail,  was  apparently  forgotten  ex- 
cept as  people  from  the  surrounding  region  came  to  gratify 
their  curiosity. 

Lane's  feverish  symptoms  had  passed  away,  but  he  was 


A    LITTLE    REBEL  365 

exceedingly  weak,  and  the  wound  in  his  shoulder  was  of 
a  nature  to  require  almost  absolute  quiet.  One  evening, 
after  the  surgeon  had  told  him  of  Suwanee's  ministrations 
beside  a  dying  Union  soldier,  he  said,  "I  must  see  her  and 
tell  her  of  my  gratitude." 

On  receiving  his  message  she  hesitated  a  single  instant, 
then  came  to  his  bedside=  The  rays  of  the  setting  sun  illu- 
mined her  reddish- brown  hair  as  she  stood  before  him,  and 
enhanced  her  beauty  in  her  simple  muslin  dress.  Her  ex- 
pression toward  him,  her  enemy,  was  gentle  and  sympa- 
thetic. 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  silence,  almost  as  if  she 
were  a  vision,  then  began,  slowly  and  gravely:  "Miss  Bark- 
dale,  what  can  I  say  to  you  ?  I'm  not  strong  enough  to  say 
very  much,  yet  I  could  not  rest  till  you  knew.  The  sur- 
geon here  has  told  me  all — no,  not  all.  Deeds  like  yours 
can  be  told  adequately  only  in  heaven.  You  are  fanning 
the  spark  of  life  in  my  own  breast.  I  doubt  whether  I 
should  have  lived  but  for  your  kindness.  Still  more  to 
me  has  been  your  kindness  to  my  men,  the  poor  fellows 
that  are  too  often  neglected,  even  by  their  friends.  You 
have  been  like  a  good  angel  to  them.  These  flowers,  fra- 
grant and  beautiful,  interpret  you  to  me.  You  can't  know 
what  reverence — " 

"Please  stop,  Captain  Lane."  said  Suwanee,  beginning 
to  laugh,  while  tears  stood  in  her  eyes.  "Why,  I'm  only 
acting  as  any  good-hearted  Southern  girl  would  act.  I  shall 
not  permit  you  to  think  me  a  saint  when  I  am  not  one. 
I've  a  little  temper  of  my  own,  which  isn't  always  sweet. 
I  like  attention  and  don't  mind  how  many  bestow  it — in 
brief,  I  am  just  like  other  girls,  only  more  so,  and  if  I  be- 
came what  you  say  I  shouldn't  know  myself.  Now  you 
must  not  talk  any  more.  You  are  still  a  little  out  of  your 
head.  You  can  only  answer  one  question.  Is  there  any- 
thing you  would  like — anything  we  can  do  for  you  to  help 
you  get  well  ?" 

"No;  I  should  be  overwhelmed  with  gratitude  if  you  did 


366  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

anything  more.  I  am  grieved  enough  now  when  I  think  of 
all  the  trouble  and  loss  we  have  caused  you." 

"Oh,  that's  the  fortune  of  war,"  she  said,  with  a  light, 
deprecatory  gesture.  "You  couldn't  help  it  any  more  than 
we  could." 

"You  are  a  generous  enemy,  Miss  Barkdale." 

"I'm  no  wounded  man's  enemy,  at  least  not  till  he  is 
almost  well.  Were  I  one  of  my  brothers,  however,  and  you 
were  on  your  horse  again  with  your  old  vigor — "  and  she 
gave  him  a  little,  significant  nod. 

He  now  laughed  responsively,  and  said,  "I  like  that." 
Then  he  added,  gravely:  "Heaven  grant  I  may  never  meet 
one  of  your  brothers  in  battle.  I  could  not  knowingly  harm 
him." 

"Thank  you  for  saying  that,"  she  said,  gently.  "Now, 
tell  me  truly,  isn't  there  anything  you  wish?" 

"Yes,  I  wish  to  get  better,  so  that  I  may  have  a  little  of 
your  society.  These  days  of  inaction  are  so  interminably 
long,  and  you  know  I've  been  leading  a  very  active  life." 

"I  fear  you  wouldn't  enjoy  the  society  of  such  a  hot  little 
rebel  as  I  am." 

"We  should  differ,  of  course,  on  some  things,  but  that 
would  only  give  zest  to  your  words.  I'm  not  so  stupid  and 
prejudiced,  Miss  Barkdale,  as  to  fail  to  see  that  you  are  just 
as  sincere  and  patriotic  as  I  am.  I  have  envied  the  enlisted 
men  when  I  have  heard  of  your  attentions  to  them." 

"Now,"  she  resumed,  laughing,  "I've  found  out  that 
the  'good  angel'  is  not  treating  you  as  well  as  the  common 
soldiers.  Men  always  let  out  the  truth  sooner  or  later.  If 
Surgeon  McAllister  will  permit,  I'll  read  and  talk  to  you 
also." 

"I  not  only  give  my  permission,"  said  the  surgeon,  "but 
also  assure  you  that  such  kindness  will  hasten  the  captain's 
recovery,  for  time  hangs  so  heavily  on  his  hands  that  he 
chafes  and  worries." 

"Very  well,"  with  a  sprightly  nod  at  the  surgeon,  "since 
we've  undertaken   to  cure  the  captain,   the  most  sensible 


A    LITTLE   REBEL  367 

thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  cure  him.  You  shall  prescribe 
when  and  how  the  doses  of  society  are  to  be  adminis- 
tered." Then  to  Lane,  "Not  another  word;  good-night"; 
and  in  a  moment  she  was  gone. 

Suwanee  never  forgot  that  interview,  for  it  was  the  be- 
ginning of  a  new  and  strange  experience  to  her.     From  the 
first,  her  high,  chivalric  spirit  had  been  compelled  to  admire 
her  enemy.     The  unknown  manner  in  which  he  had  foiled 
her  sister's  strategy  showed  that  his  mind  was  equal  to  his 
courage,   while  his   hot  indignation,   when  he  found  tbem 
threatened  by  a  midnight  marauder,  had  revealed  his  nature. 
Circumstances  had  swiftly  disarmed  her  prejudices,  and  her 
warm  heart  had  been  full  of  sympathy  for  him  as  he  lay 
close  to  the  borders  of  death.     All  these  things  tended  to 
throw  down  the  barriers  which  would   naturally  interpose 
between  herself  and  a  Northern  man.     When,  therefore,  out 
of  a  full  heart,  he  revealed  his  gratitude  and  homage,  she 
had  no  shield  against  the  force  of  his  words  and  manner, 
and  was  deeply  touched.     She  had  often  received  gallantry,' 
admiration,  and  even  words  of  love,  but  never  before  had 
a  man   looked  and  acted  as  if  he  reverenced  her  and  the 
womanhood  she  represented.     It  was  not  a  compliment  that 
had  been  bestowed,   but  a  recognition  of  what  she  herself 
had  not  suspected.     By  her  family  or  acquaintances  she  had 
never  been  thought  or  spoken  of  as  an  especially  good  girl. 
Hoydenish  in  early  girlhood,  leading  the  young  Southern 
gallants  a  chase  in  later  years,  ever  full  of  frolic  and  mis- 
chief, as  fond  of  the  dance  as  a  bird  of  flying,  she  was  liked 
by  every  one,   but  the  graver  members  of  the  community 
were  accustomed  to  shake  their  heads  and  remark,  "She  is 
a  case;  perhaps  she'll  sober   down   some  day."     She  had 
hailed  the  war  with  enthusiasm,  knowing  little  of  its  mean- 
ing, and  sharing  abundantly  in  rural  Virginia's  contempt 
for  the  North.     She  had   proved  even  a  better  recruiting 
officer  than  her  stately  sister,   and  no  young  fellow  dared 
to  approach  her  until  he  had  donned  the  gray.      When  the 
war  came  she  met  it  with   her  own   laughing  philosophy 


368  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

and  unconquerable  buoyancy,  going  wild  over  Southern  < 
victories  and  shrugging  her  plump  shoulders  over  defeats, 
crying:  "Better  luck  next  time.  The  Yankees  probably 
had  a  hundred  to  one.  It  won't  take  long  for  Southerners 
\o  teach  Northern  abolitionists  the  difference  between  us." 
But  now  she  had  seen  Northern  soldiers  in  conflict,  had  wit- 
nessed the  utmost  degree  of  bravery  on  her  side,  but  had 
seen  it  confronted  by  equal  courage,  inspired  by  a  leader 
who  appeared  irresistible. 

This  Northern  officer,  whose  eyes  had  flashed  like  his 
sabre  in  battle,  whose  wit  had  penetrated  and  used  for  his 
own  purpose  the  scheme  of  the  enemy,  and  whose  chivalric 
treatment  of  women  plotting  against  him  had  been  knightly 
—this  man,  who  had  won  her  respect  by  storm,  as  it  were, 
had  followed  her  simple,  natural  course  during  the  past 
week,  and  had  metaphorically  bowed  his  knee  to  her  in 
homage.  What  did  it  mean  ?  What  had  she  done  ?  Only 
made  the  best  of  things,  and  shown  a  little  humanity  toward 
some  poor  fellows  whose  sufferings  ought  to  soften  hearts  of 
flint. 

Thus  the  girl  reasoned  and  wondered.  She  did  not  be- 
long to  that  class  who  keep  an  inventory  of  all  their  good 
traits  and  rate  them  high.  Molded  in  character  by  sur- 
rounding influences  and  circumstances,  her  natural,  unper- 
verted  womanhood  and  her  simple  faith  in  God  found  un- 
conscious expression  in  the  sweet  and  gracious  acts  which 
Lane  had  recognized  at  their  true  worth.  The  most  exquis- 
ite music  is  but  a  little  sound;  the  loveliest  and  most  fra- 
grant flower  is  but  organized  matter.  True,  she  had  been 
engaged  in  homely  acts— blessing  her  enemies  as  the  Bible 
commanded  and  her  woman's  heart  dictated— but  how  were 
those  acts  performed  ?  In  her  unaffected  manner  and  spirit 
consisted  the  charm  which  won  the  rough  men's  adoration 
and  Lane's  homage.  That  which  is  simple,  sincere,  sponta- 
neous, ever  attains  results  beyond  all  art  and  calculation. 

"Missy  S'wanee"  couldn't  understand  it.  She  had  al- 
ways thought  of  herself  as  "that  child,"  that  hoyden,  that 


A    LITTLE   REBEL 

frivolous  girl  who  couldn't  help  giggling  even  at  a  funeral, 
and  now  here  comes  a  Northern  man,  defeats  and  captures 
her  most  ardent  admirer,  and  bows  down  to  her  as  if  she 
were  a  saint! 

"I  wish  I  were  what  he  thinks  me  to  be,"  she  laughed 
to  herself.  "What  kind  of  girls  have  they  in  the  North, 
anyway,  that  he  goes  on  so  ?  I  declare,  I've  half  a  mind 
to  try  to  be  good,  just  for  the  novelty  of  the  thing.  But 
what's  the  use?  It  wouldn't  last  with  me  till  the  dew  was 
off  the  grass  in  the  morning. 

"Heigho!  I  suppose  Major  Denham  is  thinking  of  me 
and  pining  in  prison,  and  I  haven't  thought  so  very  much 
about  him.  That  shows  what  kind  of  an  'angel'  I  am. 
Now  if  there  were  only  a  chance  of  getting  him  out  by 
tricking  his  jailers  and  pulling  the  wool  over  the  eyes  of 
some  pompous  old  official,  I'd  take  as  great  a  risk  as  any 
Southern — 'Keverence,'  indeed!  Captain  Lane  must  be 
cured  of  his  reverence,  whatever  becomes  of  his  wound,  ' 


370  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 

THE   CURE   OF   CAPTAIN    LANE 

A  DAINTIER,  bouquet  than  usual  was  placed  on 
Lane's  table  next  morning,  and  the  piece  of  chicken 
sent  to  his  breakfast  was  broiled  to  the  nicest  turn 
of  brown.  The  old  colored  cook  was  friendly  to  the  "Lin- 
kum  ossifer, "  and  soon  discovered  that  "Missy  S'wanee" 
was  not  averse  to  a  little  extra  painstaking. 

After  the  surgeon  had  made  his  morning  rounds  the 
young  girl  visited  the  men  also.  She  found  them  doing 
well,  and  left  them  doing  better;  for,  in  rallying  the 
wounded,  good  cheer  and  hopefulness  can  scarcely  be 
overestimated. 

As  she  was  returning  the  surgeon  met  her,  and  said, 
"Captain  Lane  is  already  better  for  your  first  visit  and 
impatient  for  another." 

"Then  he's  both  patient  and  impatient.  A  very  contra- 
dictory and  improper  condition  to  remain  in.  I  can  read  to 
him  at  once,  after  I  have  seen  if  mamma  wishes  anything. ' ' 

"Please  do;  and  with  your  permission  I'll  take  a  little 
walk,  for  I,  too,  am  restless  from  inaction. ' ' 

"I  don't  think  it's  nice  for  you  to  read  alone  with  that 
officer,"  said  Roberta. 

"I  see  no  impropriety  at  all,"  cried  Suwanee.  "Yours 
and  mamma's  rooms  are  but  a  few  yards  away,  and  you  can 
listen  to  all  we  say  if  you  wish.  If  your  colonel  was  sick 
and  wounded  at  the  North  wouldn't  you  like  some  woman 
to  cheer  him  up?" 

"No,  not  if  she  were  as  pretty  as  you  are,"  replied 
Roberta,  laughing. 


THE    CURE    OF   CAPTAIN   LANE  371 

"Nonsense,"  said  Suwanee,  flushing.  "For  all  I  know 
this  captain  is  married  and  at  the  head  of  a  large  family. 

"But  I'm  going  to  find  out,"  she  assured  herself.  "I 
shall  investigate  this  new  species  of  genus  homo  who  imag- 
ines me  to  be  a  saint.  He  wasn't  long  in  proving  that 
Northern  men  were  not  what  I  supposed.  Now  I  shall 
give  him  the  harder  task  of  proving  me  to  be  an  angel;" 
and  she  walked  demurely  in,  leaving  the  door  open  for  any 
espionage  that  her  mother  and  sister  might  deem  proper. 

Lane's  face  lighted  up  the  moment  he  saw  her,  and  he 
said:  ''You  have  robbed  this  day  of  its  weariness  already. 
I've  had  agreeable  anticipations  thus  far,  and  I'm  sure  you 
will  again  leave  pleasant  memories." 

"'Then  you  are  better?" 

"Yes;  thanks  to  you. "' 

"You  are  given  to  compliments,  as  our  Southern  men 
are. " 

"I  should  be  glad  to  equal  them  at  anything  in  your  es- 
timation. But  come,  such  honest  enemies  as  we  are  should 
be  as  sincere  as  friends.  I  have  meant  every  word  I  have 
said  to  you.  You  are  harboring  me,  an  entire  stranger,  who 
presented  my  credentials  at  first  very  rudely.  Now  you  can 
ask  me  any  questions  you  choose.  You  have  proved  your- 
self to  be  such  a  genuine  lady  that  I  should  be  glad  to  have 
you  think  that  I  am  a  gentleman  by  birth  and  breeding." 

"Oh,  I  was  convinced  of  that  before  you  put  your  sabre 
in  its  scabbard  on  the  evening  of  your  most  unwelcome  ar- 
rival, when  you  spoiled  our  supper- party.  You  have  since 
been  confirming  first  impressions.  I  must  admit,  however, 
ttiat  I  scarcely  'reverence'  you  yet,  nor  have  I  detected  any- 
thing specially  'angelic'  " 

"Your  failure  in  these  respects  will  be  the  least  of  my 
troubles.     I  do  not  take  back  what  I  have  said,  however." 

"Wait;  perhaps  you  will.  You  are  very  slightly  ac- 
quainted with  me,  sir." 

"  You  are  much  less  so  with  me,  and  can't  imagine  what 
an  obstinate  fellow  I  am." 


372  AJSi    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Oh,  if  I  have  to  contend  with  obstinacy  rather  than 
judgment — " 

"Please  let  us  have  no  contentions  whatever.  I  have 
often  found  that  your  Southern  men  outmatched  me,  and 
not  for  the  world  would  I  have  a  dispute  with  a  woman  of 
your  mettle.  I  give  you  my  parole  to  do  all  that  you  wish, 
as  far  as  it  is  within  my  power,  while  I  am  helpless  on  your 
hands." 

"And  when  I  have  helped  to  make  you  well  you  will  go 
and  fight  against  the  South  again?1' 

"Yes,  Miss  Barkdale, "  gravely,  "and  so  would  your  offi- 
cers against  the  North." 

1 '  Oh,  I  know  it.    1  shan't  put  any  poison  in  your  coffee. ' ' 

"Nor  will  you  ever  put  poison  in  any  man's  life.  The 
most  delightful  thing  about  you,  Miss  Barkdale,"  he  con- 
tinued, laughing,  "is  that  you  are  so  genuinely  good  and 
don't  know  it." 

"Whatever  happens,"  she  said,  almost  irritably,  "you 
must  be  cured  of  that  impression.  I  won't  be  considered 
'good'  when  I'm  not.  Little  you  know  about  me,  indeed! 
Good  heavens,  Captain  Lane!  what  kind  of  women  have 
you  been  accustomed  to  meet  in  the  North  ?  Would  they 
put  strychnine  in  a  wounded  Southerner's  food,  and  give 
him  heavy  bread,  more  fatal  than  bullets,  and  read  novels 
while  dying  men  were  at  their  very  doors?" 

"Heaven  help  them!  I  fear  there  are  many  women  the 
world  over  who  virtually  do  just  those  things." 

"They  are  not  in  the  South,"  she  replied,  hotly. 

"They  are  evidently  not  in  this  house,"  he  replied,  smil- 
ing. "You  ask  what  kind  of  women  I  am  accustomed  to 
meet.  I  will  show  you  the  shadow  of  one  of  my  friends;" 
and  he  took  from  under  his  pillow  a  photograph  of  Marian. 

"Oh,  isn't  she  lovely!"  exclaimed  the  girl. 

"Yes,  she  is  as  beautiful  as  you  are;  she  is  as  brave  as 
you  are,  and  I've  seen  you  cheering  on  your  friends  when 
even  in  the  excitement  of  the  fight  my  heart  was  filled  with 
dread  lest  you  or  your  mother  or  sister  might  be  shot.     She 


THE    CURE    OF   CAPTAIN   LANE  373 

is  just  as  ardent  for  the  North  as  you  are  for  the  South,  and 
her  influence  has  had  much  place  in  the  motives  of  many 
who  are  now  in  the  Union  army.  If  wounded  Confederates 
were  about  her  door  you  could  only  equal — you  could  not 
surpass — her  in  womanly  kindness  and  sympathy.  The 
same  would  be  true  of  my  mother  and  sisters,  and  mil- 
lions of  others.  I  know  what  you  think  of  us  at  the 
North,  but  you  will  have  to  revise  your  opinions  some 
day." 

Her  face  was  flushed,  a  frown  was  upon  her  brow,  a 
doubtful  smile  upon  her  lips,  and  her  whole  manner  be- 
tokened her  intense  interest.  "You  evidently  are  seeking 
to  revise  them,"  she  said,  with  a  short  laugh,  "much  as 
you  charged  our  cavalry  the  other  evening.  I  think  you 
are  a  dangerous  man  to  the  South,  Captain  Lane,  and  I 
don't  know  whether  I  should  let  you  get  well  or  not." 

He  reached  out  his  hand  and  took  hers,  as  he  said, 
laughingly:  "I  should  trust  you  just  the  same,  even 
though  Jeff  Davis  and  the  whole  Confederate  Congress 
ordered  you  to  make  away  with  me." 

"Don't  you  call  our  President  'Jeff,'"  she  snapped, 
but  did  not  withdraw  her  hand. 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  That  was  just  as  rude  in  me  as  if 
you  had  called  Mr.  Lincoln  'Abe.'  " 

She  now  burst  out  laughing.     "Heaven  knows  we  do  it 
often  enough,"  she  said. 
"I  was  aware  of  that." 

"This  won't  do  at  all,"  she  resumed.  "Your  hand  is 
growing  a  little  feverish,  and  if  my  visits  do  not  make  you 
better  I  shall  not  come.  I  think  we  have  defined  our  dif- 
ferences sufficiently.  You  must  not  'reverence'  me  any 
more.  I  couldn't  stand  that  at  all.  I  will  concede  at  once 
that  you  are  a  gentleman,  and  that  this  lovely  girl  is  my 
equal;  and  when  our  soldiers  have  whipped  your  armies, 
and  we  are  free,  I  shall  be  magnanimous,  and  invite  you 
to  bring  this  girl  here  to  visit  us  on  your  wedding  trip. 
What  is  her  name?" 


374:  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Marian  Vosburgh.  But  I  fear  she  will  never  take  a 
wedding  trip  with  me.  If  she  did  I  would  accept  your  in- 
vitation gratefully  after  we  had  convinced  the  South  that 
one  flag  must  protect  us  all." 

"We  won't  talk  any  more  about  that.  Why  won't  Miss 
Vosburgh  take  a  wedding  trip  with  you?" 

"For  the  best  of  reasons — she  doesn't  love  me  well 
enough." 

"Stupid!     Perhaps  she  loves  some  one  else?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  so.  She  is  as  true  a  friend  as  a  wo- 
man can  be  to  a  man,  but  there  it  ends." 

"With  her." 

"Certainly,  with  her  only.  She  knows  that  I  would  do 
all  that  a  man  can  to  win  her." 

"You  are  frank." 

"Why  should  I  not  be  with  one  I  trust  so  absolutely? 
You  think  us  Northmen  cold,  underhanded.  I  do  not  in- 
tend virtually  to  take  my  life  back  from  your  hands,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  keep  that  life  aloof  from  you  as  if  you  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  If  I  survive  the  war,  whichever  way 
it  turns,  I  shall  always  cherish  your  memory  as  one  of  my 
ideals,  and  shall  feel  honored  indeed  if  I  can  retain  your 
friendship.  To  make  and  keep  such  friends  is  to  enrich 
one's  life.  Should  I  see  Miss  Vosburgh  again  I  shall  tell 
her  about  you,  just  as  I  have  told  you  about  her." 

"You  were  born  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  line,  Captain 
Lane.     Ycu  are  a  Southerner  at  heart." 

"Oh,  nonsense!  Wait  till  you  visit  us  at  the  North. 
You  will  find  people  to  your  mind  on  both  sides  of  the 
line.  When  my  mother  and  sisters  have  learned  how  you 
nave  treated  me  and  my  men  they  will  welcome  you  with 
open  arms." 

She  looked  at  him  earnestly  a  moment,  and  then  said: 
"You  make  me  feel  as  if  the  North  and  South  did  not  un- 
derstand each  other."  Then  she  added,  sadly:  "The  war 
is  not  over.  Alas!  how  much  may  happen  before  it  is. 
M.y  gray-haired  father  and  gallant  brothers  are  marching 


THE    CURE    OF    CAPTAIN    LANE  375 

with  Lee,  and  while  I  pray  for  them  night  and  morning, 
and  often  through  the  day,  I  fear— I  fear  inexpressibly- 
all  the  more,  now  that  I  have  seen  Northern  soldiers  fight. 
God  only  knows  what  is  in  store  for  us  all.  Do  not  think 
that  because  I  seem  light-hearted  I  am  not  conscious  of  liv- 
ing on  the  eve  of  a  tragedy  all  the  time.  Tears  and  laugh- 
ter are  near  together  in  my  nature.  I  can't  help  it;  I  was 
so  made." 

"Heaven  keep  you  and  yours  in  safety,"  said  Lane,  ear- 
nestly; and  she  saw  that  his  eyes  were  moist  with  feeling. 
"This  won't  answer,"  she  again  declared,  hastily.     "We 
must  have  no  more  such  exciting  talks.     Shall  I  read  to  you 
a  little  while,  or  go  at  once?" 

"Kead  to  me,  by  all  means,  if  I  am  not  selfishly  keeping 
you  too  long.  Your  talk  has  done  me  good  rather  than 
harm,  for  you  are  so  vital  yourself  that  you  seem  to  give 
me  a  part  of  your  life  and  strength.  I  believe  I  should 
have  died  under  the  old  dull  monotony." 

"I  usually  read  the  Bible  to  your  men,"  she  said,  half 
humorously,  half  questioningly. 

"Head  it  to  me.  I  like  to  think  we  have  the  same  faith. 
That  book  is  the  pledge  that  ail  differences  will  pass  away 
from  the  sincere." 

He  looked  at  her  wonderingly  as  she  read,  in  her  sweet 
girlish  voice,  the  sacred  words  familiar  since  his  childhood; 
and  when  she  rose  and  said,  "This  must  do  for  to-day,"  his 
face  was  eloquent  with  his  gratitude.  He  again  reached  out 
his  hand,  and  said,  gently,  "Miss  Suwanee,  Heaven  keep 
you  and  yours   from  all  harm." 

"Don't  talk  to  me  that  way,"  she  said,  brusquely. 
"After  all,  we  are  enemies,  you  know." 

"If  you  can  so  bless  your  enemies,  what  must  be  the 
experience  of  your  friends,  one  of  whom  I  intend  to  be?" 
".Roberta  must  read  to  you,  in  order  to  teach  you  that 
the  South  cannot  be  taken  by  storm." 

"I  should  welcome  Miss  Roberta  cordially.  We  also 
shall  be  good  friends  some  day. " 


376  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"We  must  get  you  well  and  pack  you  off  North,  or 
there's  no  telling  what  may  happen,"  she  said,  with  a  little 
tragic  gesture.     "Good- by." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  many  talks,  though  no  other 
was  of  so  personal  a  nature.  They  felt  that  they  understood 
each  other,  that  there  was  no  concealment  to  create  distrust. 
She  artlessly  and  unconsciously  revealed  to  him  her  life  and 
its  inspirations,  and  soon  proved  that  her  mind  was  as  active 
as  her  hands.  She  discovered  that  Lane  had  mines  of  infor- 
mation at  command,  and  she  plied  him  with  questions  about 
the  North,  Europe,  and  such  parts  of  the  East  as  he  had 
visited.  Her  father's  library  was  well  stored  with  standard 
works,  and  she  made  him  describe  the  scenes  suggested  by 
her  favorite  poets.  Life  was  acquiring  for  her  a  zest  which 
it  had  never  possessed  before,  and  one  day  she  said  to  him, 
abruptly,  "How  you  have  broadened  my  horizon!" 

He  also  improved  visibly  in  her  vivacious  societ}',  and 
at  last  was  able  to  come  down  to  his  meals  and  sit  on  the 
piazza.  Mrs.  Barkdale's  and  Eoberta's  reserve  thawed  be- 
fore his  genial  courtesy,  and  all  the  more  readily  since 
a  letter  had  been  received  from  Colonel  Barkdale  contain- 
ing thanks  to  Lane  for  the  consideration  that  had  been 
shown  to  his  family,  and  assuring  his  wife  that  the  Bark- 
dale  mansion  must  not  fail  in  hospitality  either  to  loyal 
friends  or  to  worthy  foes. 

Roberta  was  won  over  more  completely  than  she  had  be- 
lieved to  be  possible.  Her  proud,  high  spirit  was  pleased 
with  the  fact  that,  while  Lane  abated  not  one  jot  of  his  well- 
defined  loyalty  to  the  North  and  its  aims,  he  also  treated  her 
with  respect  and  evident  admiration  in  her  fearless  assertion 
of  her  views.  She  also  recognized  his  admirable  tact  in  pre- 
venting their  talk  from  verging  toward  a  too  earnest  discus- 
sion of  their  differences.  Suwanee  was  delighted  as  she  saw 
him  disarm  her  relatives,  and  was  the  life  of  their  social 
hours.  She  never  wearied  in  delicately  chaffing  and  bewil- 
dering the  good-natured  but  rather  matter-of-fact  Surgeon 
McAllister,  and  it  often  cost  Lane  much  effort  to  keep  from 


THE    CURE   OF   CAPTAIN   LANE  377 

exploding  in  laughter  as  he  saw  the  perplexed  and  worried 
expression  of  his  friend.  But  before  the  meal  was  over  she 
would  always  reassure  her  slow-witted  guest  by  some  unex- 
pected burst  of  sunshine,  and  he  afterward  would  remark, 
in  confidence:  "I  say,  Lane,  that  little  'Missy  S'wanee'  out- 
generals a  fellow  every  time.  She  attacks  rear,  flank,  and 
front,  all  at  once,  and  then  she  takes  your  sword  in  such 
a  winsome  way  that  you  are  rather  glad  to  surrender." 

"Take  care,  McAllister— take  care,  or  you  may  surrender 
more  than  your  sword." 

"I  think  you  are  in  the  greater  danger." 
11  Oh,  no,  I'm  forearmed,  and  Miss  Suwanee  and  I  under- 
stand each  other." 

But  he  did  not  understand  her,  nor  did  she  comprehend 
herself.  Her  conversation  seemed  as  open,  and  often  as 
bright  as  her  Southern  sunshine,  and  his  mind  was  cheered 
and  delighted  with  it.  He  did  not  disguise  his  frank,  cor- 
dial regard  for  her,  even  before  her  mother  and  sister,  but 
it  was  ever  blended  with  such  a  sincere  respect  that  she  was 
touched  and  surprised  by  it,  and  they  were  reassured.  She 
had  told  them  of  the  place  possessed  by  Marian  in  his 
thoughts,  and  this  fact,  with  his  manner,  promised  immu- 
nity from  all  tendencies  toward  sentiment.  Indeed,  that 
Suwanee  should  bestow  anything  more  upon  the  Northern 
officer  than  kindness,  a  certain  chivalric  hospitality,  and 
some  admiration,  was  among  the  impossibilities  in  their 
minds. 

This,  at  the  time,  seemed  equally  true  to  the  young  girl 
herself.  Not  in  the  least  was  she  on  her  guard.  Her  keen 
enjoyment  of  his  society  awakened  no  suspicions,  for  she 
enjoyed  everything  keenly.  His  persistence  in  treating  her, 
in  spite  of  all  her  nonsense  and  frolicsomeness,  as  if  she  were 
worthy  of  the  deepest  respect  and  honor  which  manhood 
can  pay  to  womanhood,  ever  remained  a  bewildering  truth, 
and  touched  the  deepest  chords  in  her  nature.  Sometimes 
when  they  sat  in  the  light  of  the  young  moon  on  the  veranda 
she  revealed  thoughts  which  surprised  him,  and  herself  even 


378  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

more.  It  appeared  to  her  as  if  a  new  and  deeper  life  were, 
awakening  in  her  heart,  full  of  vague  beauty  and  mystery. 
She  almost  believed  that  she  was  becoming  good,  as  he  im- 
agined. Why  otherwise  should  she  be  so  strangely  happy 
and  spiritually  exalted  ?  He  was  developing  in  her  a  new 
self-respect.  She  now  knew  that  he  was  familiar  with  stan- 
dards of  comparison  at  the  North  of  which  she  need  not 
be  ashamed.  Even  her  mother  and  sister  had  remarked, 
in  effect,  4tIt  is  evident  that  Captain  Lane  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  the  best  society."  His  esteem  was  not  the  gaping 
admiration  of  a  boor  to  whom  she  had  been  a  revelation. 

11  No,"  she  said,  "he  is  a  revelation  to  me.  I  thought 
my  little  prejudices  were  the  boundaries  of  the  world.  He, 
who  has  seen  the  world,  walks  right  over  my  prejudices  as 
if  they  were  nothing,  and  makes  me  feel  that  I  am  his  friend 
and  equal,  because  he  fancies  I  possess  a  true,  noble  woman- 
hood; and  now  I  mean  to  possess  it.  He  has  made  his  ideal 
of  me  seem  worthy  and  beautiful,  and  it  shall  be  my  life 
effort  to  attain  it.  He  doesn't  think  me  a  barbarian  because 
I  am  a  rebel  and  believe  in  slavery.  He  has  said  that  his 
mother  and  sisters  would  receive  me  with  open  arms.  It 
seems  to  me  that  I  have  grown  years  older  and  wiser  during 
the  last  few  weeks." 

She  did  not  know  that  her  vivid,  tropical  nature  was  re- 
sponding to  the  influence  which  is  mightiest  even  in  colder 
climes. 


LOVE'S    TRIUMPH  379 


CHAPTER  XL 

LOVE'S     TRIUMPH 

THE  month  of  June  was  drawing  to  a  close.  Captain 
Lane,  his  surgeon,  and  a  little  company  of  wounded 
men,  equally  with  the  Confederates,  were  only  ap- 
parently forgotten.  They  were  all  watched,  and  their 
progress  toward  health  was  noted.  Any  attempt  at  es- 
cape would  have  been  checked  at  once.  The  majority 
of  the  Federal  soldiers  could  now  walk  about  slowly,  and 
were  gaining  rapidly.  Although  they  were  not  aware  of 
the  fact,  the  Confederate  wounded,  who  had  progressed 
equally  far  in  convalescence,  were  their  guards,  and  the 
residents  of  the  neighborhood  were  allies  in  watchfulness. 
The  Southerners  were  only  awaiting  the  time,  near  at  hand, 
when  they  could  proceed  to  Richmond  with  their  prisoners. 
This  purpose  indicated  no  deep  hostility  on  the  part  of  the 
rebels.  Companionship  in  suffering  had  banished  this  feel- 
ing. A  sergeant  among  their  number  had  become  their 
natural  leader,  and  he  was  in  communication  with  guerilla 
officers  and  other  more  regular  authorities.  They  had 
deemed  it  best  to  let  events  take  their  course  for  a  time. 
Lee's  northward  advance  absorbed  general  attention,  al- 
though little  as  yet  was  known  about  it  on  that  remote 
plantation.  The  Union  men  were  being  healed  and  fed 
at  no  cost  to  the  Confederates,  and  could  be  taken  away 
at  the  time  when  their  removal  could  be  accomplished  with 
the  least  trouble. 

Lane  himself  was  the  chief  cause  of  delay.     He  was  doing 


38o  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

well,  but  his  wound  was  of  a  peculiar  nature,  and  any  great 
exertion  or  exposure  might  yet  cause  fatal  results.  This 
fact  had  become  known  to  the  rebel  sergeant,  and  since 
the  captain  was  the  principal  prize,  and  they  were  all  very 
comfortable,  he  had  advised  delay.  It  had  been  thought 
best  not  to  inform  the  family  as  to  the  state  of  affairs,  lest 
it  should  in  some  way  become  known  to  Lane  and  the  sur- 
geon, and  lead  to  attempted  escape.  The  Barkdales,  more- 
over, were  high -strung  people,  and  might  entertain  some 
chivalric  ideas  about  turning  over  their  guests  to  cap- 
tivity. 

"They  might  have  a  ridiculous  woman's  notion  about 
the  matter,"  said  one  of  these  secret  advisers. 

Lane  and  McAllister,  however,  were  becoming  exceed- 
ingly solicitous  concerning  the  future.  The  former  did  not 
base  much  hope  on  Suwanee's  evident  expectation  that  when 
he  was  well  enough  he  would  go  to  his  friends  as  a  matter 
of  course.  He  knew  that  he  and  his  men  were  in  the 
enemy's  hands,  and  that  they  would  naturally  be  regarded 
as  captives.  He  had  a  horror  of  going  to  a  Southern  prison 
and  of  enduring  weeks  and  perhaps  months  of  useless  inac- 
tivity. He  and  McAllister  began  to  hold  whispered  consul- 
tations. His  mind  revolted  at  the  thought  of  leaving  his 
men,  and  of  departing  stealthily  from  the  family  that  had 
been  so  kind.  And  yet  if  they  were  all  taken  to  Richmond 
he  would  be  separated  from  the  men,  and  could  do  noth- 
ing for  them.  Matter-of-fact  McAllister  had  no  doubts 
or  scruples. 

"Of  course  we  should  escape  at  once  if  your  wound 
justified  the  attempt." 

On  the  29th  of  June  Lane  and  the  surgeon  walked  some 
little  distance  from  the  house,  and  became  satisfied  that 
they  were  under  the  surveillance  of  the  rebel  sergeant  and 
his  men.  This  fact  so  troubled  Lane  that  Suwanee  noticed 
his  abstraction  and  asked  him  in  the  evening  what  was 
worrying  him.  The  moonlight  fell  full  on  her  lovely, 
sympathetic  face. 


LOVE'S    TRIUMPH  381 

"Miss  Suwanee, "  he  said,  gravely,  "I've  been  your 
guest  about  a  mouth.     Are  you  not  tired  of   me  yet?" 

"That's  a  roundabout  way  of  saying  you  are  tired 
of  us." 

"I  beg  your  pardon:  it  is  not.  But,  in  all  sincerity, 
1  should  be  getting  back  to  duty,  were  it  possible." 

"Your  wound  is  not  sufficiently  healed,"  she  said,  ear- 
nestly, wondering  at  the  chill  of  fear  that  his  words  had 
caused.     "The  surgeon  says  it  is  not." 

"Don't  you  know?"  he  whispered. 

"Know  what?"  she  almost  gasped. 

"That  I'm  a  prisoner." 

She  sprung  to  her  feet  and  was  about  to  utter  some  pas- 
sionate exclamation;  but  he  said,  hastily,  "Oh,  hush,  or 
I'm  lost.     I  believe  that  eyes  are  upon  me  all  the  time. " 

"Heigho!"  she  exclaimed,  walking  to  the  edge  of  the 
veranda,  "I  wish  I  knew  what  General  Lee  was  doing-. 
We  are  expecting  to  hear  of  another  great  battle  every 
day;"  and  she  swept  the  vicinity  with  a  seemingly  careless 
glance,  detecting  a  dark  outline  behind  some  shrubbery  not 
far  away.  Instantly  she  sprung  down  the  steps  and  con- 
fronted the  rebel  sergeant. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?"  she  asked,  indignantly. 

"My  duty,"  was  the  stolid  reply. 

"Find  duty  elsewhere  then,"  she  said,  haughtily. 

The  man  slunk  away,  and  she  returned  to  Lane,  who 
remarked,  significantly,  "Now  you  understand  me." 

It  was  evident  that  she  was  deeply  excited,  and  immedi- 
ately she  began  to  speak  in  a  voice  that  trembled  with  anger 
and  other  emotions.  "This  is  terrible.  I  had  not  thought 
—indeed  it  cannot  be.  My  father  would  not  permit  it. 
The  laws  of  war  would  apply,  I  suppose,  to  your  enlisted 
men,  but  that  you  and  Surgeon  McAllister,  who  have  been 
our  guests  and  have  sat  at  our  table,  should  be  taken  from 
our  hospitality  into  captivity  is  monstrous.  In  permitting 
it,  I  seem  to  share  in  a  mean,  dishonorable  thing." 

"How  characteristic  your  words  and  actions  are!"  said 


382  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Lane,  gently.  "It  would  be  easy  to  calculate  your  orbit. 
I  fear  you  cannot  help  yourself.  You  forget,  too,  that  I 
was  the  means  of  sending  to  prison  even  your  Major 
Denham. " 

"Major  Denham  is  nothing—"  she  began,  impetuously, 
then  hesitated,  and  he  saw  the  rich  color  mantling  her  face 
even  in  the  moonlight.  After  a  second  or  two  she  added: 
"Our  officers  were  captured  in  fair  fight.  That  is  very 
different  from  taking  a  wounded  man  and  a  guest." 

"Not  a  guest  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word.  You 
see  I  can  be  fair  to  your  people,  unspeakably  as  I  dread 
captivity.  It  will  not  be  so  hard  for  McAllister,  for  sur- 
geons are  not  treated  like  ordinary  prisoners.  His  remain- 
ing, however,  was  a  brave,  unselfish  act;"  and  Lane  spoke 
in  tones  of  deep  regret. 

"It  must  not  be,"  she  said,  sternly. 

"Miss  Suwanee" — and  his  voice  was  scarcely  audible — 
"do  you  think  we  can  be  overheard  ?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  in  like  tones.  "Roberta  and  mamma 
are  incapable  of  listening." 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  them.  I  must  speak  quickly.  I 
don't  wish  to  involve  you,  but  the  surgeon  and  I  must 
try  to  escape,  for  I  would  almost  rather  die  than  be  taken 
prisoner.  Deep  as  is  my  longing  for  liberty  I  could  not 
leave  you  without  a  word,  and  my  trust  in  the  chivalric 
feeling  that  you  have  just  evinced  is  so  deep  as  to  convince 
me  that  I  can  speak  to  you  safely.  I  shall  not  tell  you  any- 
thing to  compromise  you.  You  have  only  to  be  blind  and 
deaf  if  you  see  or  hear  anything." 

Her  tears  were  now  falling  fast,  but  she  did  not  move, 
lest  observant  eyes  should  detect  her  emotion. 

"Heaven  bless  your  good,  kind  heart!"  he  continued, 
in  a  low,  earnest  tone.  "Whether  I  live  or  die,  I  wish  you 
to  know  that  your  memory  will  ever  be  sacred  to  me,  like 
that  of  my  mother  and  one  other.  Be  assured  that  the  life 
you  have  done  so  much  to  save  is  always  at  your  command. 
Whenever  I  can  serve  you  or  yours  you  can  count  on  all 


LOVE'S    TRIUMPH  383 

that  I  am  or  can  do.  Suwanee,  I  shall  be  a  better  man  for 
having  known  you.  You  don't  half  appreciate  yourself,  and 
every  succeeding  day  has  only  proved  how  true  my  first 
impressions  were." 

She  did  not  answer,  and  he  felt  that  it  would  be  danger- 
ous to  prolong  the  interview.  They  entered  the  house  to- 
gether. As  they  went  up  the  stairs  she  pressed  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  eves,  he  wondering  at  her  silence  and  emo- 
tion, xlt  the  landing  in  the  dusky  hallway  he  raised  her 
hand  to  his  lips. 

There  was  not  a  trace  of  gallantry  in  the  act,  and  she 
knew  it.  It  was  only  the  crowning  token  of  that  recogni- 
tion at  which  she  had  wondered  from  the  first.  She  realized 
that  it  was  only  the  homage  of  a  knightly  man  and  the  final 
expression  of  his  gratitude;  but  it  overwhelmed  her,  and 
she  longed  to  escape  with  the  terrible  revelation  which 
had  come  to  her  at  last.  She  could  not  repress  a  low  sob, 
and,  giving  his  hand  a  quick,  strong  pressure,  she  fled  to 
her  room. 

"Can  it  be  possible?"  he  thought.  "Oh!  if  I  have 
wounded  that  heart,  however  unintentionally,  I  shall 
never  forgive  myself." 

"Lane,"  whispered  McAllister,  when  the  former  entered 
his  room,  "there  are  guards  about  the  house." 

"I'm  not  surprised,"  was  the  despondent  reply.  '"We 
are  prisoners." 

"Does  the  family  know  it?" 

He  told  him  how  Suwanee  had  detected  the  espionage  of 
the  rebel  sergeant. 

"Wouldn't  she  help  us?" 

"I  shall  not  ask  her  to.  I  shall  not  compromise  her  with 
her  people." 

"No,  by  thunder!  I'd  rather  spend  my  life  in  prison  than 
harm  her.     What  shall  we  do?" 

"We  must  put  our  light  out  soon,  and  take  turns  in 
watching  for  the  slightest  opportunity.  You  lie  down 
first.     I   do  not  feel   sleepy." 


384  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

After  making  some  slight  preparations  the  doctor  slept, 
and  it  was  well  on  toward  morning  before  Lane's  crowding 
thoughts  permitted  him  to  seek  repose.  He  then  wakened 
McAllister  and  said,  "There  has  been  a  stealthy  relief  of 
guards  thus  far,  and  I've  seen  no  chance  whatever. " 

The  doctor  was  equally  satisfied  that  any  attempt  to  es- 
cape would  be  fruitless. 

Suwanee's  vigil  that  night  was  bitter  and  terrible,  in- 
deed. Her  proud,  passionate  nature  writhed  under  the 
truth  that  she  had  given  her  heart,  unsought,  to  a  North- 
ern officer — to  one  who  had  from  the  first  made  it  clear  that 
his  love  had  been  bestowed  on  another.  She  felt  that  she 
could  not  blame  him.  His  frankness  had  been  almost  equal 
to  that  of  her  own  brothers,  and  he  had  satisfied  her  that 
they  could  scarcely  be  more  loyal  to  her  than  he  would  be. 
She  could  detect  no  flaw  in  his  bearing  toward  her.  He  had 
not  disguised  his  admiration,  his  abundant  enjoyment  of  her 
society,  but  all  expression  of  his  regard  had  been  tinged  with 
respect  and  gratitude  rather  than  gallantry.  He  perhaps  had 
thought  that  her  knowledge  of  his  attitude  toward  Miss  Vos- 
burgh  was  an  ample  safeguard,  if  any  were  needed.  Alas! 
it  had  been  the  chief  cause  of  her  fatal  blindness.  She  had 
not  dreamed  of  danger  for  him  or  herself  in  their  compan- 
ionship. Nothing  was  clearer  than  that  he  expected  and 
wished  no  such  result.  It  was  well  for  Lane  that  this  was 
true,  for  she  would  have  been  a  dangerous  girl  to  trifle 
with. 

But  she  recognized  the  truth.  Before,  love  had  been  to 
her  a  thing  of  poetry,  romance,  and  dreams.  Now  it  was 
a  terrible  reality.  Her  heart  craved  with  intense  longing 
what  she  felt  it  could  never  possess. 

At  last,  wearied  and  exhausted  by  her  deep  emotion,  she 
sighed:  "Perhaps  it  is  better  as  it  is.  Even  if  he  had  been 
a  lover,  the  bloody  chasm  of  war  would  have  separated  us, 
but  it  seems  cruel  that  God  should  permit  such  an  over- 
whelming misfortune  to  come  upon  an  unsuspecting,  inex- 
perienced girl.     Why  was  I  so  made  that  I  could,  uncon- 


LOVE'S    TRIUMPH  385 

sciously,  give  my  very  soul  to  this  stranger?  yet  he  is  not 
a  straDger.  Events  have  made  me  better  acquainted  with 
him  than  with  any  other  man.  I  know  that  he  has  kept  no 
secrets  from  me.  There  was  nothing  to  conceal.  All  has 
been  simple,  straightforward,  and  honorable.  It  is  to  the 
man  himself,  in  his  crystal  integrity,  that  my  heart  has 
bowed,  and  then — that  was  his  chief  power — he  made  me 
feel  that  I  was  not  unworthy.  He  taught  me  to  respect 
my  own  nature,  and  to  aspire  to  all  that  was  good  and 
true. 

"After  all,  perhaps  I  am  condemning  myself  too  harshly 
— perhaps  the  truth  that  my  heart  acknowledged  such  a  man 
as  master  is  proof  that  his  estimate  of  me  is  not  wholly  wrong. 
Were  there  not  some  kinship  of  spirit  between  us,  this  could 
not  be;  but  the  secret  must  remain  between  me  and  God." 

Lane,  tormented  by  the  fear  suggested  by  Suwanee's 
manner  on  the  previous  evening,  dreaded  to  meet  her 
again,  but  at  first  he  was  reassured.  Never  had  she 
been  more  brilliant  and  frolicsome  than  at  the  breakfast- 
table  that  morning.  Never  had  poor  McAllister  been  more 
at  his  wits'  end  to  know  how  to  reply  to  her  bewildering 
sallies  of  good-natured  badinage.  Every  vulnerable  point 
of  Northern  character  received  her  delicate  satire.  Lane 
himself  did  not  escape  her  light  shafts.  He  made  no  de- 
fence, but  smiled  or  laughed  at  every  palpable  hit.  The 
girl's  pallor  troubled  him,  and  something  in  her  eyes  that 
suggested  suffering.  There  came  a  time  when  he  could 
scarcely  think  of  that  day  without  tears,  believing  that  no 
soldier  on  either  side  ever  displayed  more  heroism  than 
did  the  wounded  girl. 

He  and  the  surgeon  walked  out  again,  and  saw  that  they 
were  watched.  He  found  that  his  men  had  become  aware 
of  the  truth  and  had  submitted  to  the  inevitable.  They 
were  far  from  the  Union  lines,  and  not  strong  enough  to 
attempt  an  escape  through  a  hostile  country.  Lane  virtu- 
ally gave  up,  and  began  to  feel  that  the  best  course  would 
be  to   submit  quietly  and   look   forward    to  a    speedy  ex. 

Roe— VI— 17 


386  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

change.  He  longed  for  a  few  more  hours  with  Suwanee, 
but  imagined  that  she  avoided  him.  There  was  no  abate- 
ment of  her  cordiality,  but  she  appeared  preoccupied. 

After  dinner  a  Confederate  officer  called  and  asked  for 
Miss  Boberta,  who,  after  the  interview,  returned  to  her 
mother's  room  with  a  troubled  expression.  Suwanee  was 
there,  calmly  plying  her  needle.  She  knew  what  the  call 
meant. 

"I  suppose  it's  all  right,  and  that  we  can't  help  our- 
selves," Boberta  began,  "but  it  annoys  me  nevertheless. 
Lieutenant  Macklin,  who  has  just  left,  has  said  that  our 
own  men  and  the  Union  soldiers  are  now  well  enough  to 
be  taken  to  Richmond,  and  that  he  will  start  with  them 
to-morrow  morning.  Of  course  I  have  no  regrets  respect- 
ing the  enlisted  men,  and  am  glad  they  are  going,  for  they 
are  proving  a  heavy  burden  to  us;  but  my  feelings  revolt 
at  the  thought  that  Captain  Lane  and  the  surgeon  should 
be  taken  to  prison  from  our  home." 

"I  don't  wonder,"  said  Suwanee,  indignantly;  "but 
then  what's  the  use?  we  can't  help  ourselves.  I  suppose 
it  is  the  law  of  war." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  are  so  sensible  about  it.  I  feared 
you  would  feel  a  hundred-fold  worse  than  I,  you  and  the 
captain  have  become  such  good  friends.  Indeed,  I  have 
even  imagined  that  he  was  in  danger  of  becoming  some- 
thing more.  I  caught  him  looking  at  you  at  dinner  as  if 
you  were  a  saint  'whom  infidels  might  adore.'  His  homage 
to  our  flirtatious  little  Suwanee  has  been  a  rich  joke  from 
the  first.  I  suppose,  however,  there  may  have  been  a  vein 
of  calculation  in  it  all,  for  I  don't  think  any  Yankee — " 

"Hush,"  said.  Suwanee,  hotly;  "Captain  Lane  is  still 
our  guest,  and  he  is  above  calculation.  I  shall  not  permit 
him  to  be  insulted  because  he  has  overestimated  me." 

"Why,  Suwanee,  I  did  not  mean  to  insult  him.  You 
have  transfixed  him  with  a  dozen  shafts  of  satire  to-day, 
and  as  for  poor  Surgeon  McAllister — " 

"That  was  to  their  faces,"  interrupted  Suwauee,  hastily. 


LOVE'S    TRIUMPH  387 

"Suwanee  is  right,"  said  Mrs.  Barkdale,  smiling.  ''Cap- 
tain Lane  has  had  the  sense  to  see  that  my  little  girl  is  good- 
hearted  in  spite  of  her  nonsense." 

The  girl's  lip  was  quivering,  but  she  concealed  the  fact 
by  savagely  biting  off  her  thread,  and  then  was  impassive 
again. 

VI  sincerely  regret  with  you  both,"  resumed  their  mo- 
ther, "that  these  two  gentlemen  must  go  from  our  home  to 
prison,  especially  so  since  receiving  a  letter  from  Captain 
Lane,  couched  in  terms  of  the  strongest  respect  and  cour- 
tesy, and  enclosing  a  hundred  dollars  in  Northern  money 
as  a  slight  compensation — so  he  phrased  it — for  what  had 
been  done  for  his  men.  Of  course  he  meant  to  include  him- 
self and  the  surgeon,  but  had  too  much  delicacy  to  mention 
the  fact.  He  also  stated  that  he  would  have  sent  more,  but 
that  it  was  nearly  all  they  had." 

"You  did  not  keep  the  money!"  exclaimed  the  two  girls 
in  the  same  breath. 

"I  do  not  intend  to  keep  it,"  said  the  lady,  quietly, 
"and  shall  hand  it  back  to  him  with  suitable  acknowledg- 
ments. I  only  mention  the  fact  to  convince  Roberta  that 
Captain  Lane  is  not  the  typical  Yankee,  and  we  have  much 
reason  to  be  thankful  that  men  of  a  different  stamp  were 
not  quartered  upon  us.  And  yet,"  continued  the  matron, 
with  a  deep  sigh,  "you  little  know  how  sorely  we  need  the 
money.  Your  father's  and  brothers'  pay  is  losing  its  pur- 
chasing power.  The  people  about  here  all  profess  to  be 
very  hot  for  the  South,  but  when  you  come  to  buy  any- 
thing from  them  what  they  call  'Linkum  money'  goes  ten 
times  as  far.  We  have  never  known  anything  but  profu- 
sion, but  now  we  are  on  the  verge  of  poverty. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Suwanee.  recklessly,  "starving  isn't  the 
worst  thing  that  could  happen." 

"Alas!  my  child,  you  can't  realize  what  poverty  means. 
Your  heart  is  as  free  from  care  as  the  birds  around  us,  and, 
like  them,  you  think  you  will  be  provided  for." 

The  girl  sprang  up  with  a  ringing  laugh,  and  kissed  her 


388  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

mother  as  she  exclaimed,  "I'll  cut  off  mj  hair,  put  on  one 
of  brother  Bob's  old  suits,  and  enlist";  and  then  she  left 
the  room. 

At  supper  there  was  a  constraint  on  all  except  Suwanee. 
Mrs.  Barkdale  and  Roberta  felt  themselves  to  be  in  an  em- 
barrassing position.  The  men  at  the  table,  who  had  been 
guests  so  long,  would  be  marched  away  as  prisoners  from 
their  door  in  the  morning.  The  usages  of  war  could  not 
satisfy  their  womanly  and  chivalric  natures,  or  make  them 
forget  the  courtesy  and  respect  which,  in  spite  of  preju- 
dices, had  won  so  much  good-will.  Lane  scarcely  sought 
to  disguise  his  perplexity  and  distress.  Honest  Surgeon 
McAllister,  who  knew  that  they  all  had  been  an  awful 
burden,  was  as  troubled  as  some  men  are  pleased  when 
they  get  much  for  nothing.  Suwanee  appeared  in  a  some- 
what new  role.  She  was  the  personification  of  dignity  and 
courtesy.  She  acted  as  if  she  knew  all  and  was  aware  that 
their  guests  did.  Therefore  levity  would  be  in  bad.  taste, 
and  their  only  resource  was  the  good  breeding  which  ignores 
the  disagreeable  and  the  inevitable.  Her  mother  looked  on 
her  with  pride,  and  wondered  at  so  fine  an  exhibition  of 
tact.  She  did  not  know  that  the  poor  girl  had  a  new 
teacher,  and  that  she  was  like  an  inexorable  general  who, 
in  a  desperate  fight,  summons  all  his  reserve  and  puts  forth 
every  effort  of  mind  and  body. 

Lane  had  not  found  a  chance  to  say  one  word  to  Suwanee 
in  private  during  the  day,  but  after  supper  she  went  to  the 
piano  and  began  to  play  some  Southern  airs  with  variations 
of  her  own  improvising.  He  immediately  joined  her  and 
said,  "We  shall  not  attempt  to  escape;  we  are  too  closely 
watched." 

She  did  not  reply. 

"Miss  Suwanee,"  he  began  again,  and  distress  and  sor- 
row were  in  his  tones,  "I  hardly  know  how  to  speak  to  you 
of  what  troubles  me  more  than  the  thought  of  captivity. 
How  can  I  manage  with  such  proud,  chivalric  women  as 
you  and  your  mother  and  sister?     But  I  am  not  blind, 


LOVE'S    TRIUMPH  389 

nor  can  I  ignore  the  prosaic  conditions  of  our  lot.  I  re- 
spect your  pride;  but  have  a  little  mercy  on  mine — nay,  let 
me  call  it  bare  self-respect.  We  have  caused  you  the  loss 
of  your  laborers,  your  fields  are  bare,  and  you  have  emptied 
your  larder  in  feeding  my  men,  yet  your  mother  will  not 
take  even  partial  compensation.  You  can't  realize  how 
troubled  I  am." 

"You,  like  ourselves,  must  submit  to  the  fortunes  of 
war,"  she  replied,  with  a  sudden  gleam  of  her  old  mirth- 
fulness. 

"A  bodily  wound  would  be  a  trifle  compared  with  this," 
he  resumed,  earnestly.  "Oh,  Miss  Suwanee,  have  I  won  no 
rights  as  a  friend  ?  rather,  let  me  ask,  will  you  not  gener- 
ously give  me  some  rights?-' 

"Yes,  Captain  Lane,"  she  said,  gently,  "I  regard  you  as 
a  friend,  and  I  honor  you  as  a  true  man.  Though  the  war 
should  go  on  forever  I  should  not  change  in  these  respects 
unless  you  keep  harping  on  this  financial  question." 

"Friends  frankly  accept  gifts  from  friends;  let  it  be  a 
gift  then,  by  the  aid  of  which  you  can  keep  your  mother 
from  privation.  Suwanee,  Suwanee,  why  do  you  refuse  to 
take  this  dross  from  me  when  I  would  give  my  heart's 
blood  to  shield  you  from  harm?" 

"You  are  talking  wildly,  Captain  Lane,"  she  said,  with 
a  laugh.  "Your  heart  belongs  to  Miss  Vosburgh,  and 
therefore  all  its  blood. " 

"She  would  be  the  first  to  demand  and  expect  that  I 
should  risk  all  and  give  all  for  one  to  whom  I  owe  so 
much  and  who  is  so  deserving." 

"I  require  of  her  no  such  sacrifice,"  Suwanee  replied, 
coldly,  "nor  of  you  either,  Captain  Lane.  Unforeseen 
circumstances  have  thrown  us  together  for  a  time.  We 
have  exchanged  all  that  is  possible  between  those  so  di- 
vided— esteem  and  friendship.  If  my  father  thinks  it  best 
he  will  obtain  compensation  from  our  government.  Per- 
haps, in  happier  times,  we  may  meet  again,"  she  added, 
her  tone  and  manner   becoming  gentle  once  more;    "and 


390  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

then   I  hope  you  will  find  me  a  little  more  like  what  you 
have  thought  me  to  be." 

"God  grant  that  we  may  meet  again.  There,  I  can't 
trust  myself  to  speak  to  you  any  more.  Your  unaffected 
blending  of  humility  and  pride  with  rare,  unconscious  no- 
bility touches  my  very  soul.  Our  leave-taking  in  the 
morning  must  be  formal.  Good- by,  Suwanee  Barkdale. 
As  sure  as  there  is  a  God  of  justice  your  life  will  be  filled 
full  with  happiness." 

Instead  of  taking  his  proffered  hand,  she  trembled, 
turned  to  the  piano,  and  said  hastily  between  the  notes 
she  played:  "Control  yourself  and  listen.  We  may  be 
observed.  You  and  the  surgeon  be  ready  to  open  your 
door  and  follow  me  at  any  time  to-night.  Hang  your 
sword  where  it  may  be  seen  through  the  open  window. 
I  have  contrived  a  chance — a  bare  chance — of  your  escape. 
Bow  and  retire." 

He  did  so.  She  bent  her  head  in  a  courtly  manner 
toward  him,  and  then  went  on  with  her  playing  of  South- 
ern airs. 

A  moment  later  the  rebel  sergeant  disappeared  from 
some  shrubbery  a  little  beyond  the  parlor  window,  and 
chuckled,  "The  Yankee  captain  has  found  out  that  he 
can't  make  either  an  ally  or  a  sweetheart  out  of  a  South- 
ern girl;  but  I  suspicioned  her  a  little  last  night." 

At  two  o'clock  that  night  there  was  an  almost  impercep- 
tible tap  at  Lane's  door.  He  opened  it  noiselessly,  and  saw 
Suwanee  with  her  finger  on  her  lips. 

"Carry  your  shoes  in  your  hands,"  she  said,  and  then 
led  the  way  down  the  stairs  to  the  parlor  window.  Again 
she  whispered:  "The  guard  here  is  bribed — bribed  by  kind- 
ness. He  says  I  saved  his  life  when  he  was  wounded. 
Steal  through  the  shrubbery  to  the  creek-road;  continue 
down  that,  and  you'll  find  a  guide.    Not  a  word.    Good- by. " 

She  gave  her  hand  to  the  surgeon,  whose  honest  eyes 
were  moist  with  feeling,  and  then  he  dropped  lightly  to  the 
ground. 


LOVE'S    TRIUMPH  39l 

"Suwanee, "  began  Lane. 

"Hush!     Go." 

Again  he  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips,  again  heard  that 
same  low,  involuntary  sob  that  had  smote  his  heart  the  pre- 
ceding night;  and  then  followed  the  surgeon.  The  guard 
stood  out  in  the  garden  with  his  back  toward  them,  as,  like 
shadows,  they  glided  away. 

On  the  creek-road  the  old  colored  man  who  worked  in 
the  garden  joined  them,  and  led  the  way  rapidly  to  the 
creek,  where  under  some  bushes  a  skiff  with  oars  was 
moored.  Lane  slipped  twenty  dollars  into  the  old  man's 
hand,  and  then  he  and  his  companion  pushed  out  into  the 
sluggish  current,  and  the  surgeon  took  the  oars  and  pulled 
quietly  through  the  shadows  of  the  overhanging  foliage. 
Tbe  continued  quiet  proved  that  their  escape  had  not  been 
discovered.  Food  had  been  placed  in  the  boat.  The  stream 
led  toward  the  Potomac.  With  the  dawn  they  concealed 
themselves,  and  slept  during  the  day,  travelling  all  the  fol- 
lowing night.  The  next  day  they  were  so  fortunate  as  to 
fall  in  with  a  Union  scouting  party,  and  so  eventually 
reached  Washington;  but  the  effort  in  riding  produced  seri- 
ous symptoms  in  Lane's  wound,  and  he  was  again  doomed 
to  quiet  weeks  of  convalescence,  as  has  already  been  inti- 
mated to  the  reader. 

When  Mrs.  Barkdale  and  Koberta  came  down  the  next 
morning  they  found  Suwanee  in  the  breakfast  room,  fuming 
with  apparent  irritability. 

"Here  is  that  Lieutenant  Macklin  again,"  she  said,  "and 
he  is  very  impatient,  saying  that  his  orders  are  imperative, 
and  that  he  is  needed  on  some  special  duty.  His  orders  are 
to  convey  the  prisoners  to  the  nearest  railroad  station,  and 
then  report  for  some  active  service.  From  all  I  can  gather 
it  is  feared  that  the  Yankees  propose  an  attack  on  Eichmond, 
now  that  General  Lee  is  away." 

"It's  strange  that  Captain  Lane  and  the  surgeon  don't 
come  down,"  Roberta  remarked.  "I  truly  wish,  however, 
that  we  had  not  to  meet  them  again." 


392  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

'l  Well,  since  it  must  be,  the  sooner  the  ordeal  is  over  the 
better,"  said  Suwanee,  with  increasing  irritation.  "Captain 
Lane  has  sense  enough  to  know  that  we  are  not  responsible 
for  his  being  taken  away." 

"Hildy,"  said  Mrs.  Barkdale,  "go  up  and  tell  the  gentle- 
men that  breakfast  is  ready." 

In  a  few  moments  the  old  woman  returned  in  a  fluster 
and  said,  "I  knock  on  de  doah,  and  dey  ain't  no  an- 
swer." 

11  What!"  exclaimed  Suwanee,  in  the  accents  of  surprise; 
then,  sharply,  "go  and  knock  louder,  and  wake  them  up," 
adding,  "it's  very  strange." 

Hildy  came  back  with  a  scared  look,  and  said,  "I  knock 
and  knock;  den  I  open  de  doah,  and  der'  ain't  no  one 
dere. ' ' 

11  They  must  be  out  in  the  grounds  for  a  walk,"  exclaimed 
Roberta.     "Haven't  you  seen  them  this  morning  ?" 

"I  ain't  seen  nuffin'  nor  heard  nuffin',"  protested  the  old 
woman. 

"Girls,  this  is  serious,"  said  Mrs.  Barkdale,  rising;  and 
she  summoned  Lieutenant  Macklin,  who  belonged  to  a  class 
not  received  socially  by  the  family. 

"We  have  but  this  moment  discovered,"  said  the  lady, 
"that  Captain  Lane  and  Surgeon  McAllister  are  not  in  their 
room.  Therefore  we  suppose  they  are  walking  in  the 
grounds.  Will  you  please  inform  them  that  breakfast 
is  waiting?" 

,l  Pardon  me,  madam,  they  cannot  be  outside,  or  I  should 
have  been  informed." 

"Then  you  must  search  for  them,  sir.  The  house, 
grounds,  and  buildings  are  open  to  you." 

The  fact  of  the  prisoners'  escape  soon  became  evident, 
and  there  were  haste,  confusion,  and  running  to  and  fro  to 
no  purpose.  Suwanee  imitated  Roberta  so  closely  that  she 
was  not  suspected.  Lieutenant  Macklin  and  the  rebel 
sergeant  at  last  returned,  giving  evidence  of  strong  vex- 
ation. 


LOVES    TRIUMPH  393 

"•  We  don't  understand  this,'"  began  the  lieutenant. 

•'Neither  do  we,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Barkdale,  so  haugh- 
tily that  they  were  abashed,  although  they  directed  keen 
glances  toward  Suwanee,  who  met  their  scrutiny  unflinch- 
ingly- 

The  Barkdales  were  not  people  to  be  offended  with  im- 
punity, and  the  lieutenant  knew  it.  He  added,  apologeti- 
cally: "You  know  I  must  do  my  duty,  madam.  I  fear 
some  of  your  servants  are  implicated,  or  that  guards  have 
been  tampered  with." 

"You  are  at  liberty  to  examine  any  one  you  please." 

They  might  as  well  have  examined  a  carved,  wrinkled 
ef^-gy  as  old  Curly,  Lane's  midnight  guide.  "I  don'  know 
nufrln'  tall  'bout  it,"  he  declared.  ''My  ole  woman  kin 
tell  yo'  dat  I  went  to  bed  when  she  did  and  got  up  when 
she  did." 

The  guard,  bought  with  kindness,  was  as  dense  in  his 
ignorance  as  any  of  the  others.  At  last  Macklin  declared 
that  he  would  have  to  put  citizens  on  the  hunt,  for  his 
orders  admitted  of  no  delay. 

The  Union  prisoners,  together  with  the  Confederates, 
when  formed  in  liDe,  gave  a  ringing  cheer  for  "Missy 
S'wanee  and  the  ladies,"  and  then  the  old  mansion  was 
left  in  more  than  its  former  isolation,  and,  as  the  younger 
girl  felt,  desolation. 

She  attended  to  her  duties  as  usual,  and  then  went  to 
her  piano.  The  words  spoken  the  previous  evening  would 
ever  make  the  place  dear  to  her.  While  she  was  there  old 
Hildy  crept  in,  with  her  feeble  step,  and  whispered,  "I  foun' 
dis  un'er  Cap'n  Lane's  piller. " 

It  was  but  a  scrap  of  paper,  unaddressed;  but  Suwanee 
understood  its  significance.  It  contained  these  words:  "I 
can  never  repay  you,  but  to  discover  some  coin  which  a 
nature  like  yours  can  accept  has  become  one  of  my  supreme 
ambitions.     If  I  live,  we  shall  meet  again." 

Those  words  formed  a  glimmering  hope  which  grew 
fainter  and  fainter  in  the  dark  years  which  followed. 


d94  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

She  did  not  have  to  mask  her  trouble  very  long,  for  an- 
other sorrow  came  like  an  avalanche.  Close  to  the  Union 
lines,  on  Cemetery  Kidge,  lay  a  white-haired  colonel  and 
his  two  tall  sons.  They  were  among  the  heroes  in  Pickett's 
final  charge,  on  the  3d  of  July.  tlMissy  S'wanee"  laughed 
no  more,  even  in  self-defence. 


SUNDAY'S    LULL    AM)    MONDAY'S    STORM  395 


CHAPTER  XLI 

SUNDAY'S    LULL    AND    MONDAY'S    STORM 

SUNDAY,  the  12th  of  July,  proved  a  long,  restful  sab- 
bath to  Marian  and  her  father,  and  they  spent  most 
of  its  hours  together.  The  great  tension  and  strain 
of  the  past  weeks  appeared  to  be  over  for  a  time.  The 
magnificent  Union  victories  had  brought  gladness  and  hope- 
fulness to  Mr.  Vosburgh,  and  the  return  of  her  friends  had 
relieved  his  daughter's  mind.  He  now  thought  he  saw  the 
end  clearly.  He  believed  that  hereafter  the  tide  of  rebellion 
would  ebb  southward  until  all  the  land  should  be  free. 

"This  day  has  been  a  godsend  to  us  both,"  he  said  to 
Marian,  as  they  sat  together  in  the  library  before  retiring. 
l,The  draft  has  begun  quietly,  and  no  disturbances  have 
followed.  I  scarcely  remember  an  evening  when  the  mur- 
mur of  the  city  was  so  faint  and  suggestive  of  repose.  I 
think  we  can  both  go  to  the  country  soon,  with  minds  com- 
paratively at  rest.  I  must  admit  that  I  expected  no  such 
experience  as  has  blessed  us  to-day.  We  needed  it.  Not 
until  this  respite  came  did  I  realize  how  exhausted  from 
labor  and  especially  anxiety  I  had  become.  You,  too,  my 
little  girl,  are  not  the  blooming  lassie  you  were  a  year  ago." 
ik  Yet  I  think  I'm  stronger  in  some  respects,  papa." 
"Yes,  in  many  respects.  Thank  God  for  the  past  year. 
Your  sympathy  and  companionship  have  made  it  a  new  era 
in  my  life.  You  have  influenced  other  lives,  also,  as  events 
have  amply  proved.  Are  you  not  satisfied  now  that  you 
can  be  unconventional  without  being  queer?  You  have 
not  been  a  colorless  reflection  of  some  social  set;    neither 


396  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

have  you  left  your  home  for  some  startling  public  career; 
and  yet  you  have  achieved  the  distinct  individuality  which 
truthfulness  to  nature  imparts.  You  have  simply  been  de- 
veloping your  better  self  naturally,  and  you  have  helped 
fine  fellows  to  make  the  best  of  themselves. " 

"Your  encouragement  is  very  sweet,  papa.  I'm  not 
complacent  over  myself,  however;  and  I've  failed  so  sig- 
nally in  one  instance  that  I'm  vexed  and  almost  saddened. 
You  know  what  I  mean." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  with  a  slight  laugh.  "Merwyn  is  still 
your  unsolved  problem,  and  he  worries  you." 

"Not  because  he  is  unsolved,  but  rather  that  the  solution 
has  proved  so  disappointing  and  unexpected.  He  baffles  me 
with  a  trait  which  I  recognize,  but  can't  understand,  and 
only  admit  in  wonder  and  angry  protest.  Indeed,  from  the 
beginning  of  our  acquaintance  he  has  reversed  my  usual  ex- 
periences. His  first  approaches  incensed  me  beyond  meas- 
ure— all  the  more,  I  suppose,  because  I  saw  in  him  an 
odious  reflection  of  my  old  spirit.  But,  papa,  when  to  his 
condescending  orler  I  answered  from  the  full  bitterness  of 
my  heart,  he  looked  and  acted  as  if  I  had  struck  him  with 
a  knife." 

Her  father  again  laughed,  as  he  said:  "You  truly  used 
heroic  surgery,  and  to  excellent  purpose.  Has  he  shown 
any  conceit,  complacency,  or  patronizing  airs  since?'1 

"No,  I  admit  that,  at  least." 

"In  destroying  some  of  his  meaner  traits  by  one  keen 
thrust,  you  did  him  a  world  of  good.  Of  course  he  suffered 
under  such  a  surgical  operation,  but  he  has  had  better  moral 
health  ever  since. " 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  burst  out,  "he  has  become  an  eminently 
respectable  and  patriotic  millionaire,  giving  of  his  abun- 
dance to  save  the  nation's  life,  living  in  a  palace  mean- 
while. What  did  he  mean  by  his  passionate  words,  'I  shall 
measure  everything  hereafter  by  the  breadth  of  your  wo- 
man's soul'?  What  have  the  words  amounted  to?  You 
know,  papa,  that  nothing  but  my  duty  and  devotion  to  you 


SUNDAY'S    LULL    AND    MONDAY'S    STORM  397 

keeps  me  from  taking  an  active  part  in  this  struggle,  even 
though  a  woman.  Indeed,  the  feeling  is  growing  upon  me 
that  I  must  spend  part  of  my  time  in  some  hospital.  A 
woman  can't  help  having  an  intense  conviction  of  what  she 
would  do  were  she  a  man,  and  you  know  what  I  would  have 
done,  and  he  knows  it  also.  Therefore  he  has  not  kept  his 
word,  for  he  fails  at  the  vital  point  in  reaching  my  standard. 
I  have  no  right  to  judge  men  in  Mr.  Merwyn's  position  be- 
cause they  do  not  go  to  the  front.  Let  them  do  what  they 
think  wise  and  prudent;  let  them  also  keep  among  their 
own  kind.  I  protest  against  their  coming  to  me  for  what  I 
give  to  friends  who  have  already  proved  themselves  heroes. 
But  there,  I  forgot.  He  looks  so  like  a  man  that  I  can't 
help  thinking  that  he  is  one— that  he  could  come  up  to  my 
standard  if  he  chose  to.     He  still  seeks  me—" 

"No,  he   has   not  been   here  since  he  heard   Blauvelt's 
story." 

"He  passed  the  house  once,  hesitated,  and  did  not  enter. 
Papa,  he  has  not  changed,  and  you  know  it.  He  has 
plainly  asked  for  a  gift  only  second  to  what  I  can  give  to 
God.  With  a  tenacity  which  nothing  but  his  will  can  ac- 
count for,  perhaps,  he  seeks  it  still.  Do  you  think  his  dis- 
tant manner  deceives  me  for  a  moment  ?  Nor  has  my  cold- 
ness any  influence  on  him.  Yet  it  has  not  been  the  coldness 
of  indifference,  and  he  knows  that  too.  He  has  seen  and 
felt,  like  sword-thrusts,  my  indignation,  my  contempt.  He 
has  said  to  my  face,  'You  think  me  a  coward.'  He  is  no 
fool,  and  has  fully  comprehended  the  situation.  If  he  had 
virtually  admitted,  'I  am  a  coward,  and  therefore  can  have 
no  place  among  the  friends  who  are  surpassing  your  ideal 
of  manly -heroism, '  and  withdrawn  to  those  to  whom  a  mil- 
lion is  more  than  all  heroism,  the  affair  would  have  ended 
naturally  long  ago.  But  he  persists  in  bringing  me  a  daily 
sense  of  failure  and  humiliation.  He  says:  'My  regard  for 
you  is  so  great  I  can't  give  you  up,  yet  not  so  great  as  to 
lead  me  to  do  what  hundreds  of  thousands  are  doing.  I 
can't  face  danger  for  your  sake.'     I  have  tried  to  make  the 


398  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

utmost  allowance  for  his  constitutional  weakness,  yet  it  has 
humiliated  me  that  I  had  not  the  power  to  enable  him  to 
overcome  so  strange  a  failing.  Why,  I  could  face  death  for 
you,  and  he  can't  stand  beside  one  whom  he  used  to  sneer 
at  as  'little  Strahan.'  Yet,  such  is  his  idea  of  my  woman's 
soul  that  he  still  gives  me  his  thoughts  and  therefore  his 
hopes;"  and  she  almost  stamped  her  foot  in  her  irritation. 

"Would  you  truly  give  your  life  for  me?"    he  asked, 
gently. 

"Yes,  I  know  I  could,  and  would  were  there  necessity; 
not  in  callous  disregard  of  danger,  but  because  the  greater 
emotion  swallows  up  the  less.  Faulty  as  I  am,  there  would 
be  no  bargainings  and  prudent  reservations  in  my  love. 
These  are  not  the  times  for  half-way  people.  Oh,  think, 
papa,  while  we  are  here  in  the  midst  of  every  comfort,  how 
many  thousands  of  mutilated,  horribly  wounded  men  are 
dying  in  agony  throughout  the  South !  My  heart  goes  out 
to  them  in  a  sympathy  and  homage  I  can;t  express.  Think 
how  Lane  and  even  Strahan  may  be  suffering  to-night,  with 
so  much  done  for  them,  and  then  remember  the  prisoners 
of  war  and  the  poor  unknown  enlisted  men,  often  terribly 
neglected,  I  fear.  Papa,  won't  you  let  me  go  as  a  nurse? 
The  ache  would  go  out  of  my  own  heart  if  I  tried  to  reduce 
this  awful  sum  of  anguish  a  little.  He  whose  word  and 
touch  always  banished  pain  and  disease  would  surely  shield 
me  in  such  labors.  As  soon  as  danger  no  longer  threatens 
you,  won't  you  let  me  do  a  little,  although  I  am  only 
a  girl  ?" 

"Yes,  Marian,"  her  father  replied,  gravely;  "far  be  it 
from  me  to  repress  such  heaven- born  impulses.  You  are 
now  attaining  the  highest  rank  reached  by  humanity.  All 
the  avenues  of  earthly  distinction  cannot  lead  beyond  the 
spirit  of  self-sacrifice  for  others.  This  places  you  near  the 
Divine  Man,  and  all  grow  mean  and  plebeian  to  the  degree 
that  they  recede  from  him.  You  see  what  comes  of  develop- 
ing your  better  nature.  Selfishness  and  its  twin,  cowardice, 
are  crowded  out." 


SUNDAY'S    LULL    AND    MONDAY'S    STORM  399 

"Please  don't  praise  me  any  more.  I  can't  stand  it," 
faltered  the  girl,  tearfully.  A  moment  later  her  laugh  rang 
out.  "Hurrah!"  she  cried,  "since  Mr.  Merwyn  won't  go  to 
the  war,  I'm  going  myself." 

"To  make  more  wounds  than  you  will  heal,"  her  father 
added.  "Remember  the  circumstances  under  which  you  go 
will  have  to  receive  very  careful  consideration,  and  I  shall 
have  to  know  all  about  the  matron  and  nurses  with  whom 
you  act.  Your  mother  will  be  horrified,  and  so  will  not  a 
few  of  your  acquaintances.  Flirting  in  shadows  is  proper 
enough,  but  helping  wounded  soldiers  to  live —  But  we 
understand  each  other,  and  I  can  trust  you  now." 

The  next  morning  father  and  daughter  parted  with  few 
misgivings,  and  the  latter  promised  to  go  to  her  mother  in 
a  day  or  two,  Mr.  Vosburgh  adding  that  if  the  week  passed 
quietly  he  could  join  them  on  Saturday  evening. 

So  they  quietly  exchanged  their  good- by  kiss  on  the  edge 
of  a  volcano  already  in  eruption. 

An  early  horseback  ride  in  Central  Park  had  become  one 
of  Merwyn's  habits  of  late.  At  that  hour  he  met  compara- 
tively few  abroad,  and  the  desire  for  solitude  was  growing 
upon  him.  Like  Mr.  Vosburgh,  he  had  watched  with  solici- 
tude the  beginning  of  the  draft,  feeling  that  if  it  passed 
quietly  his  only  remaining  chance  would  be  to  wring  from 
his  mother  some  form  of  release  from  his  oath.  Indeed, 
so  unhappy  and  desperate  was  he  becoming  that  he  had 
thought  of  revealing  everything  to  Mr.  Vosburgh.  The 
government  officer,  however,  might  feel  it  his  duty  to  use 
the  knowledge,  should  there  come  a  time  when  the  authori- 
ties proceeded 'against  the  property  of  the  disloyal.  More- 
over, the  young  man  felt  that  it  would  be  dishonorable 
to  reveal  the  secret. 

Beyond  his  loyal  impulses  he  now  had  little  motive  for 
effort.  Marian's  prejudices  against  him  had  become  too 
deeply  rooted,  and  her  woman's  honor  for  the  knightly 
men  her  friends  had  proved  too  controlling  a  principle, 
ever  to  give  him  a  chance  for  anything  better  than  polite 


400  AN    ORlGiyAL    BELLE 

tolerance.  He  had  discovered  what  this  meant  so  fully,  and 
in  Blauveit's  story  had  been  shown  the  inevitable  contrast 
which  she  must  draw  so  vividly,  that  he  had  decided: 

"No  more  of  Marian  Vosburgh's  society  until  all  is 
changed.  Therefore  no  more  forever,  probably.  If  my 
mother  proves  as  obdurate  as  a  Southern  jailer,  I  suppose 
I'm  held,  although  I  begin  to  think  I  have  as  good  cause 
to  break  my  chains  as  any  other  Union  man.  She  tricked 
me  into  captivity,  and  holds  me  remorselessly— not  like  a 
mother.  Miss  Vosburgh  did  show  she  had  a  woman's 
heart,  and  would  have  given  me  her  hand  in  friendship 
had  I  not  been  compelled  to  make  her  believe  that  I  was 
a  coward.  If  in  some  way  I  can  escape  my  oath,  and  my 
reckless  courage  at  the  front  proves  her  mistaken,  I  may 
return  to  her.  Otherwise  it  is  a  useless  humiliation  and 
pain  to  see  her  any  more." 

Such  had  been  the  nature  of  his  musings  throughout  the 
long  Sunday  whose  quiet  had  led  to  the  belief  that  the  draft 
would  scarcely  create  a  ripple  of  overt  hostility.  During 
his  ride  on  Monday  morning  he  nearly  concluded  to  go  to 
his  country  place  again.  He  was  growing  nervous  and  rest- 
less, and  he  longed  for  the  steadying  influence  of  his  moun- 
tain rambles  before  meeting  his  mother  and  deciding  ques- 
tions which  would  involve  all  their  future  relations. 

As  with  bowed  head,  lost  in  thought,  he  approached  the 
city  by  one  of  the  park  entrances,  he  heard  a  deep,  angry 
murmur,  as  if  a  storm-vexed  tide  was  coming  in.  Spurring 
his  horse  forward,  he  soon  discovered,  with  a  feeling  like 
an  electric  shock,  that  a  tide  was  indeed  rising.  Was  it  a 
temporary  tidal  wave  of  human  passion,  mysterious  in  its 
origin,  soon  to  subside,  leaving  such  wreckage  as  its  sense- 
less fury  might  have  caused  ?  Or  was  it  the  beginning  of 
the  revolution  so  long  feared,  but  not  now  guarded  against  ? 

Converging  from  different  avenues,  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren were  pouring  by  the  thousand  into  a  vacant  lot  near  the 
park.  Their  presence  seemed  like  a  dream.  Why  was  this 
angry  multitude  gathering  here  within  a  few  rods  of  rural 


SUNDAY'S    LULL    AND    MONDAY'S    STORM  401 

loveliness,  their  hoarse  cries  blending  with  the  songs  of 
robins  and  thrushes?  It  had  been  expected  that  the  red 
monster  would  raise  its  head,  if  at  all,  in  some  purlieu  of 
the  east  side.  On  the  contrary  its  segregate  parts  were 
coming  together  at  a  distance  from  regions  that  would 
naturally  generate  them,  and  were  forming  under  his  very 
eyes  the  thing  of  which  he  had  read,  and,  of  late,  had 
dreamed  night  and  day — a  mob. 

To  change  the  figure,  the  vacant  space,  unbuilt  upon  as 
yet,  was  becoming  an  immense  human  reservoir,  into  which 
turgid  streams  with  threatening  sounds  were  surging  from 
the  south.  His  eyes  could  separate  the  tumultuous  atoms 
into  ragged  forms,  unkempt  heads,  inflamed  faces,  animated 
by  some  powerful  destructive  impulse.  Arms  of  every  de- 
scription proved  that  the  purpose  of  the  gathering  was  not 
a  peaceful  one.     But  what  was  the  purpose  ? 

Riding  closer  he  sought  to  question  some  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  throng,  and  so  drew  attention  to  himself.     Volleys  of. 
oaths,  stones,  and  sticks,  were  the  only  answers  he  received. 

"Thank  you,"  Merwyn  muttered,  as  he  galloped  away. 
"I  begin  to  comprehend  your  meaning,  but  shall  study  you 
awhile  before  I  take  part  in  the  controversy.  Then  there 
shall  be  some  knock-down  arguments." 

As  he  drew  rein  at  a  short  distance  the  cry  went  up  that 
he  was  a  "spy,"  and  another  rush  was  made  for  him;  but 
he  speedily  distanced  his  pursuers.  To  his  surprise  the 
great  multitude  turned  southward,  pouring  down  Fifth 
and  Sixth  avenues.  After  keeping  ahead  for  a  few  blocks, 
he  saw  that  the  mob,  now  numbering  many  thousands, 
was  coming  downtown  with  some  unknown  purpose  and 
destination. 

Two  things  were  at  least  clear — the  outbreak  was  unex- 
pected, and  no  preparation  had  been  made  for  it.  As  he 
approached  his  home  on  a  sharp  trot,  a  vague  air  of  appre- 
hension and  expectation  was  beginning  to  manifest  itself, 
and  but  little  more.  Policemen  were  on  their  beats,  and 
the  city  on  the  fashionable  avenues  and  cross-streets  wore 


402  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

its  midsummer  aspect.  Before  entering  his  own  home  he 
obeyed  an  impulse  to  gallop  by  the  Vosburgh  residence. 
All  was  still  quiet,  and  Marian,  with  surprise,  saw  him 
clattering  past  in  a  way  that  seemed  reckless  and  un- 
dignified. 

On  reaching  his  home  he  followed  his  groom  to  the  sta- 
ble, and  said,  quietly:  "You  are  an  old  family  servant,  but 
you  must  now  give  me  positive  assurance  that  I  can  trust 
you.  There  is  a  riot  in  the  city,  and  there  is  no  telling 
what  house  will  be  safe.  Will  you  mount  guard  night  and 
day  in  my  absence  ?" 

"Faix,  sur,  I  will.  Oi'll  sarve  ye  as  I  did  yer  fayther 
afore  ye." 

"I  believe  you,  but  would  shoot  you  if  treacherous. 
You  know  I've  been  expecting  this  trouble.  Keep  the 
horse  saddled.  Bar  and  bolt  everything.  I  shall  be  in 
and  out  at  all  hours,  but  will  enter  by  the  little  side-door 
in  the  stable.  Watch  for  my  signal,  and  be  ready  to  open 
to  me  only  any  door,  and  bolt  it  instantly  after  me.  Leave 
all  the  weapons  about  the  house  just  where  I  have  put 
them.  If  any  one  asks  for  me,  say  I'm  out  and  you  don't 
know  when  I'll  be  back.  Learn  to  recognize  my  voice  and 
signal,  no  matter  how  disguised  I  am." 

The  faithful  old  servant  promised  everything,  and  was 
soon  executing  orders.  Before  their  neighbors  had  taken 
the  alarm,  the  heavy  shutters  were  closed,  and  the  unusual 
precautions  that  in  the  family's  absence  had  been  adopted 
rendered  access  possible  only  to  great  violence.  On  reach- 
ing his  room  Merwyn  thought  for  a  few  moments.  He  was 
intensely  excited,  and  there  was  a  gleam  of  wild  hope  in  his 
eyes,  but  he  felt  with  proud  exultation  that  in  his  manner 
he  was  imitating  his  father.  Not  a  motion  was  hasty  or 
useless.  Kight  or  wrong,  in  the  solitude  of  his  room  or 
in  the  midst  of  the  mob,  his  brain  should  direct  his  hand. 

"And  now  my  hand  is  free!"  he  exclaimed,  aloud;  "my 
oath  cannot  shackle  it  now." 

His  first  conclusion  was  to  mingle  with  the  mob  and 


SUNDAY'S    LULL    AND    MONDAYS   STORM  403 

learn  the  nature  and  objects  of  the  enemy.  He  believed 
the  information  would  be  Valuable  to  Mr.  Vosburgh  and  the 
police  authorities.  Having  accomplished  this  purpose  he 
would  join  any  organized  resistance  he  could  find,  at  the 
same  time  always  seeking  to  shield  Marian  from  the  possi- 
bility of  danger. 

He  had  already  been  shown  that  in  order  to  understand 
the  character  and  aims  of  the  mob  he  must  appear  to  be  one 
of  them,  and  he  decided  that  he  could  carry  off  the  disguise 
of  a  young  city  mechanic  better  than  any  other. 

This  plan  he  carried  out  by  donning  from  his  own  ward- 
bore  a  plain  dark  flannel  suit,  which,  when  it  had  been 
rolled  in  dust  and  oil,  and  received  a  judicious  rip  here  and 
there,  presented  the  appearance  of  a  costume  of  a  workman 
just  from  his  shop.  With  further  injunctions  to  Thomas 
and  the  old  serving-woman,  he  made  his  way  rapidly  to  the 
northeast,  where  the  smoke  of  a  conflagration  proved  that 
the  spirit  of  mischief  was  increasing. 

One  would  not  have  guessed,  as  he  hurried  up  Third 
Avenue,  that  he  was  well  armed,  but  there  were  two  small, 
yet  effective  revolvers  and  a  dirk  upon  his  person.  As  has 
been  related  before,  he  had  practiced  for  this  emergency, 
and  could  be  as  quick  as  a  flash  with  his  weapon. 

He  had  acted  with  the  celerity  of  youth,  guided  by  defi- 
nite plans,  and  soon  began  to  make  his  way  quietly  through 
the  throng  that  blocked  the  avenue,  gradually  approaching 
the  fire  at  the  corner  of  Forty-fifth  Street.  At  first  the 
crowd  was  a  mystery  to  him,  so  orderly,  quiet,  and  inoffen- 
sive did  it  appear,  although  composed  largely  of  the  very 
dregs  of  the  slums.  The  crackling,  roaring  flames,  devour- 
ing tenement-houses,  were  equally  mysterious.  No  one  was 
seeking  to  extinguish  them,  although  the  occupants  of  the 
houses  were  escaping  for  their  lives,  dragging  out  their 
humble  effects.  The  crowd  merely  looked  on  with  a 
pleased,  satisfied  expression.  After  a  moment's  thought 
Merwyn  remembered  that  the  draft  had  been  begun  in 
one  of  the   burning  houses,  and  was  told  by  a  bystander, 


404  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"We  smashed  the  ranch  and  broke  some  jaws  before  the 
bonfire. " 

That  the  crowd  was  only  a  purring  tiger  was  soon 
proved,  for  some  one  near  said,  "There's  Kennedy,  chief 
of  the  cops";  and  it  seemed  scarcely  a  moment  before  the 
officer  was  surrounded  by  an  infuriated  throng  who  were 
raining  curses  and  blows  upon  him. 

Merwyn  made  an  impulsive  spring  forward  in  his  de- 
fence, but  a  dozen  forms  intervened,  and  his  effort  was 
supposed  to  be  as  hostile  as  that  of  the  rioters.  The 
very  numbers  that  sought  to  destroy  Kennedy  gave  him  a 
chance,  for  they  impeded  one  another,  and,  regaining  his 
feet,  he  led  a  wild  chase  across  a  vacant  lot,  pursued  by 
a  hooting  mob  as  if  he  were  a  mad  dog.  The  crowd  that 
filled  the  street  almost  as  far  as  eye  could  reach  now  began 
to  sway  back  and  forth  as  if  coming  under  the  influence  of 
some  new  impulse,  and  Merwyn  was  so  wedged  in  that  he 
had  to  move  with  the  others.  Being  tall  he  saw  that  Ken- 
nedy, after  the  most  brutal  treatment,  was  rescued  almost 
by  a  miracle,  apparently  more  dead  than  alive.  It  also  be- 
came clear  to  him  that  the  least  suspicion  of  his  character 
and  purpose  would  cost  him  his  life  instantly.  He  there- 
fore resolved  on  the  utmost  self-control.  He  was  ready  to 
risk  his  life,  but  not  to  throw  it  away  uselessly — not  at  least 
till  he  knew  that  Marian  was  safe.  It  was  his  duty  now 
to  investigate  the  mob,  not  fight  it. 

The  next  excitement  was  caused  by  the  cry,  "The  soldiers 
are  coming!" 

These  proved  to  be  a  small  detachment  of  the  invalid 
corps,  who  showed  their  comprehension  of  affairs  by  firing 
over  the  rioters'  heads,  thinking  to  disperse  them  by  a  little 
noise.  The  mob  settled  the  question  of  noise  by  howling 
as  if  a  menagerie  had  broken  loose,  and,  rushing  upon  the 
handful  of  men,  snatched  their  muskets,  first  pounding 
the  almost  paralyzed  veterans,  and  then  chasing  them  as  a 
wilderness  of  wolves  would  pursue  a  small  array  of  sheep. 

As  Merwyn  stepped  down  from  a  dray,  whereon  he  had 


SUNDAY'S    LULL    ASD    MONDAY'S    STORM  405 

witnessed  the  scene,  he  muttered,  indiscreetly,  "What  does 
such  nonsense  amount  to!" 

A  big  hulking  fellow,  carrying  a  bar  of  iron,  who  had 
stood  beside  him,  and  who  apparently  had  had  his  suspi- 
cions, asked,  fiercely,  "An'  what  did  ye  expect  it  wud 
amount  to?  An'  what's  the  nonsense  ye're  growlin'  at? 
By  the  holy  poker  oi  belave  you're  a  spy.'1 

"Yis,  prove  that,  and  I'll  cut  his  heart  out,"  cried  an 
inebriated  woman,  brandishing  a  knife  a  foot  long. 

"Yes,  prove  it,  you  thunderin'  fool!"  cried  Merwyn. 
''The  cops  are  comin"  now,  and  you  want  to  begin  a  fight 
among  ourselves.  M 

True  enough,  the  cry  came  ringing  up  the  avenue,  "The 
cops  comin'." 

"Oh,  an'  ye's  wan  uv  us,  oi'll  stan1  by  ye;  but  oi've  got 
me  eye  on  ye,  and  ud  think  no  more  o'  brainin'  ye  than  a 
puppy." 

••Try  brainin'  the  cops  first,  if  yer  know  when  yer  well 
off,"  replied  Merwyn,  drawing  a  pistol.  "I  didn't  come 
out  to  fight  bullies  in  our  crowd." 

The  momentary  excitement  caused  by  this  altercation 
was  swallowed  up  by  the  advent  of  a  squad  of  police,  which 
wheeled  into  the  avenue  from  Forty- third  Street,  and 
checked  the  pursuit  of  the  bleeding  remnants  of  the  in- 
valid corps.  Those  immediately  around  the  young  man 
pressed  forward  to  see  what  took  place,  he  following,  but 
edging  toward  the  sidewalk,  with  the  eager  purpose  to  see 
the  first  fight  between  the  mob  and  the  police. 


406  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLS 


CHAPTER  XLII 

THAT   WORST    OF    MONSTERS,   A    MOB 

AFTER  reaching  the  sidewalk  Merwyn  soon  found  a 
chance  to  mount  a  dry-goods  box,  that  he  might 
better  observe  the  action  of  the  police  and  form  an 
idea  of  their  numbers.  The  moment  he  saw  the  insignifi- 
cant band  he  felt  that  they  were  doomed  men,  or  else  the 
spirit  abroad  was  not  what  he  thought  it  to  be,  and  he 
had  been  witnessing  some  strong  indications  of  its  ruthless 
nature. 

It  was  characteristic  of  the  young  fellow  that  he  did  not 
rush  to  the  aid  of  the  police.  He  was  able,  even  in  that 
seething  flood  of  excitement,  to  reason  coolly,  and  his 
thoughts  were  something  to  this  effect:  "I'm  not  going  to 
throw  away  my  life  and  all  its  chances  and  duties  because 
the  authorities  are  so  ignorant  as  to  sacrifice  a  score  or  two 
of  their  men.  I  shall  not  fight  at  all  until  I  have  seen 
Marian  and  Mr.  Vosburgh.  ^Yhen  I  have  done  something 
to  insure  their  safety,  or  at  least  to  prove  that  I  am  not  a 
coward,  I  shall  know  better  what  to  do  and  how  to  do  it. 
This  outbreak  is  not  an  affair  of  a  few  hours.  She  herself 
may  be  exposed  to  the  fury  of  these  fiends,  for  I  believe 
her  father  is,  or  will  be,  a  marked  man." 

Seeing,  further  up  the  avenue,  a  small  balcony  as  yet 
unoccupied,  he  pushed  his  way  toward  it,  that  he  might 
obtain  one  more  view  of  the  drift  of  affairs  before  taking 
his  course.  The  hall-door  leading  to  the  second  story  was 
open  and  filled  with  a  crowd  of  frightened,  unkempt  women 
and  children,  who  gave  way  before  him.     The  door  of  the 


THAT    WORST   OF   MONSTERS,    A    MOB  407 

room  opening  on  the  balcony  was  locked,  and,  in  response 
to  his  repeated  knockings,  a  quavering  voice  asked  what 
was  wanted. 

"You  must  open  instantly,"  was  his  reply. 

A  trembling,  gray- haired  woman  put  the  door  ajar,  and 
he  pushed  in  at  once,  saying:  "Bolt  the  door  again,  madam. 
I  will  do  you  no  harm,  and  may  be  able  to  save  you  from 
injury";  and  he  was  out  in  the  balcony  before  his  assur- 
ances were  concluded. 

"Indeed,  sir,  I've  done  no  one  any  wrong,  and  therefore 
need  no  protection.  I  only  wish  to  be  let  alone  with  my 
children. " 

"That  you  cannot  expect  with  certainty,  in  view  of  what 
is  going  on  to-day.  Do  you  not  know  that  they  are  burning 
houses  ?  As^long  as  I'm  here  I'll  be  a  protection.  I  merely 
wish  the  use  of  this  little  outlook  for  a  brief  time.  So  say 
nothing  more,  for  I  must  give  my  whole  attention  to  the 
fight." 

"Well,  then,  since  you  are  so  civil,  you  can  stay;  but 
the  street  is  full  of  devils." 

He  paid  no  heed  to  her  further  lamentations,  and  look- 
ing southward  saw  that  the  police  had  formed  a  line  across 
the  avenue,  and  that  such  battered  remnants  of  the  invalid 
corps  as  had  escaped  were  limping  off  behind  their  cover  as 
fast  as  possible.  The  presence  of  the  city's  guardians  had 
caused  a  brief  hesitation  in  the  approaching  and  broken 
edge  of  the  rabble.  Seeing  this  the  brave  sergeant  ordered 
a  charge,  which  was  promptly  and  swiftly  made,  the  mob 
recoiling  before  it  more  and  more  slowly  as  under  pressure 
it  became  denser.  There  was  no  more  effort  to  carry  out 
the  insane,  rather  than  the  humane,  tactics  of  the  invalid 
corps,  who  had  either  fired  high  or  used  blank  cartridges, 
for  now  the  police  struck  for  life  with  their  locust  clubs, 
and  the  thud  of  the  blows  could  often  be  heard  even  above 
the  uproar.  Every  one  within  reach  of  their  arms  went 
down,  and  the  majority  lay  quietly  where  they  fell,  as  the 
devoted  little  band  pressed  slowly  forward.     With  regret 


408  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Merwyn  saw  Barney  Ghegan  among  the  foremost,  his  broad 
red  face  streaming  with  perspiration,  and  he  wielding  his 
club  as  if  it  were  the  deadliest  of  shillalahs. 

They  did  indeed  strike  manfully,  and  proved  what  an 
adequate  force  could  do.  Eioters  fell  before  them  on  ev- 
ery side.  But  hopeless  reaping  was  theirs,  with  miles  of 
solid,  bloodthirsty  humanity  before  them.  Slowly  and  more 
falteringly  they  made  their  way  three  blocks,  as  far  as  Forty- 
sixth  Street,  sustained  by  the  hope  of  finding  re-enforce- 
ments there.  Instead  of  these,  heavier  bodies  of  the  enemy 
poured  in  from  the  side  streets  upon  the  exhausted  men,  and 
the  mob  closed  behind  them  from  Forty- fifth  Street,  like  dark, 
surging  waves.  Then  came  a  mad  rush  upon  the  hemmed- 
in  officers,  who  were  attacked  in  front  and  in  the  rear,  with 
clubs,  iron- bars,  guns,  and  pistols.  Tom,  bruised,  bleed- 
ing, the  force  that  had  fought  so  gallantly  broke,  each  man 
striking  out  for  his  own  life.  The  vast  heterogeneous  crowd 
now  afforded  their  chief  chance  for  escape.  Dodging  behind 
numbers,  taking  advantage  of  the  wild  confusion  of  the  sway- 
ing, trampling  masses,  and  striking  down  some  direct  oppo- 
nent, a  few  got  off  with  slight  bruises.  There  were  wonder- 
ful instances  of  escape.  The  brave  sergeant  who  had  led  the 
squad  had  his  left  wrist  broken  by  an  iron  bar,  but,  knock- 
ing down  two  other  assailants,  he  sprang  into  a  house  and 
bolted  the  door  after  him.  An  heroic  German  girl,  with 
none  of  the  stolid  phlegm  attributed  to  her  race,  lifted  the 
upper  mattress  of  her  bed.  The  sergeant  sprang  in  and 
was  covered  up  without  a  word.  There  was  no  time  then 
for  plans  and  explanations.  A  moment  later  the  door  was 
broken,  and  a  score  of  fierce-visaged  men  streamed  in.  Now 
the  girl  was  stolidity  itself. 

"Der  cop  run  out  der  back  door,"  was  all  that  she  could 
be  made  to  say  in  answer  to  fierce  inquiries.  Every  apart- 
ment was  examined  in  vain,  and  then  the  roughs  departed 
in  search  of  other  prey.  Brave,  simple-hearted  girl!  She 
would  have  been  torn  to  pieces  had  her  humane  strategy 
been  discovered. 


THAT    WORST   OF   MONSTERS,    A    MOB  409 

But  a  more  memorable  act  of  heroism  was  reserved  for 
another  woman,  Mrs.  Eagan,  the  wife  of  the  man  who  had 
rescued  Superintendent  Kennedy  a  short  time  before.  A 
policeman  was  knocked  down  with  a  hay-bale  rang,  and 
fell  at  her  very  feet.  In  a  moment  more  he  would  have 
been  killed,  but  this  woman  instantly  covered  his  form 
with  her  own,  so  that  no  blow  could  reach  him  unless  she 
was  first  struck.  Then  she  begged  for  his  life.  Even  the 
wild-beast  spirit  of  the  mob  was  touched,  and  the  pursuers 
passed  on.  A  monument  should  have  been  built  to  the  wo- 
man who,  in  that  pandemonium  of  passion,  could  so  risk  all 
for  a  stranger. 

I  am  not  defending  Merwyn's  course,  but  sketching  a 
character.  His  spirit  of  strategical  observation  would  have 
forsaken  him  had  he  witnessed  that  scene,  and  indeed  it  did 
forsake  him  as  he  saw  Barney  Ghegan  running  and  making 
a  path  for  himself  by  the  terrific  blows  of  his  club.  Three 
times  he  fell  but  rose  again,  with  the  same  indomitable 
pluck  which  had  won  his  suit  to  pretty  Sally  Maguire. 
At  last  the  brave  fellow  was  struck  down  almost  opposite 
the  balcony.  Merwyn  knew  the  man  was  a  favorite  of  the 
Vosburghs,  and  he  could  not  bear  that  the  brave  fellow 
should  be  murdered  before  his  very  eyes;  yet  murdered 
he  apparently  was  ere  Merwyn  could  reach  the  street. 
Like  baffled  fiends  his  pursuers  closed  upon  the  unfor- 
tunate man,  pounding  him  and  jumping  upon  him.  And 
almost  instantly  the  vile  hags  that  followed  the  marauders  like 
harpies,  for  the  sake  of  plunder,  began  stripping  his  body. 

"Stop!"  thundered  Merwyn,  the  second  he  reached  the 
scene,  and,  standing  over  the  prostrate  form,  he  levelled  a 
pistol  at  the  throng.  "Now,  listen  to  me,"  he  added.  "I 
don't  wish  to  hurt  anybody.  You've  killed  this  man,  so 
let  his  body  alone.  I  know  his  wife,  an  Irishwoman,  and 
she  ought  at  least  to  have  his  body  for  decent  burial." 

"Faix,  an  he's  roight,"  cried  one,  who  seemed  a  leader. 
"We've  killed  the  man.  Let  his  woife  have  what's  left  uv 
'im;"  and  the  crowd  broke  away,  following  the  speaker. 

Roe— VI— 18 


410  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

This  was  one  of  the  early  indications  of  what  was  proved 
afterward — that  the  mob  was  hydra-headed,  following  either 
its  own  impulses  or  leaders  that  sprang  up  everywhere. 

An  abandoned  express-wagon  stood  near,  and  into  this 
Merwyn,  with  the  help  of  a  bystander,  lifted  the  insensible 
man.  The  young  fellow  then  drove,  as  rapidly  as  the  con- 
dition of  the  streets  permitted,  to  the  nearest  hospital.  A 
few  yards  carried  him  beyond  those  who  had  knowledge  of 
the  affair,  and  after  that  he  was  unmolested.  It  was  the 
policy  of  the  rioters  to  have  the  bodies  of  their  friends  dis- 
appear as  soon  as  possible.  Poor  Ghegan  had  been  stripped 
to  his  shirt  and  drawers,  and  so  was  not  recognized  as  a 
"cop." 

Leaving  him  at  the  hospital,  with  brief  explanations, 
Merwyn  was  about  to  hasten  away,  when  the  surgeon  re- 
marked, "The  man  is  dead,  apparently." 

"I  can't  help  it,"  cried  Merwyn.  "I'll  bring  his  wife 
as  soon  as  possible.  Of  course  you  will  do  all  in  your 
power;"  and  he  started  away  on  a  run. 

A  few  moments  later  Barney  Ghegan  was  taken  to  the 
dead-house. 


THE    ''COWARD"  411 


M 


CHAPTER    XLIII 

THE    "COWARD" 

EBWYH  now  felt  that  he  had  carried  out  the  first 
part  of  his  plan.  He  had  looked  into  the  murderous 
eves  of  the  mob,  and  learned  its  spirit  and  purpose. 
Already  he  reproached  himself  for  leaving  Marian  alone  so 
long,  especially  as  columns  of  smoke  were  rising  through- 
out the  northern  part  of  the  city.  It  seemed  an  age  since 
he  had  seen  that  first  cloud  of  the  storm,  as  he  emerged 
from  the  park  after  his  quiet  ride,  but  it  was  not  yet  noon. 

As  he  sped  through  the  streets,  running  where  he  dared, 
and  fortunately  having  enough  of  the  general  aspect  of  a 
rioter  to  be  unmolested,  he  noticed  a  new  feature  in  the 
outbreak,  one  that  soon  became  a  chief  characteristic — the 
hatred  of  negroes  and  the  sanguinary  pursuit  of  them  every- 
where. 

"Another  danger  for  the  Vosburghs,"  he  groaned.  41They 
have  a  colored  servant,  who  must  be  spirited  off  somewhere 
instantly. " 

Avoiding  crowds,  he  soon  reached  the  quiet  side-street 
on  which  Marian  lived,  and  was  overjoyed  to  find  it  almost 
deserted.  Mammy  Borden  herself  answered  his  impatient 
ring,  and  was  about  to  shut  the  door  on  so  disreputable  a 
person  as  he  now  appeared  to  be.  when  he  shouldered  it 
open,  turned,  locked  and  chained  it  with  haste. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?  and  who  are  you?"  Marian 
demanded,  running  from  the  parlor  on  hearing  the  expos- 
tulations of  her  servant. 


412  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Have  patience,  Miss  Vosburgh." 

"Oh,  it  is  you,  Mr.  Merwyn.  Indeed  I  have  need  of 
patience.  An  hour  ago  papa  sent  a  message  from  down- 
town, saying:  'Don't  leave  the  house  to-day.  Serious 
trouble  on  foot.'  Since  then  not  a  word,  only  wild-look- 
ing people  running  through  the  street,  the  ringing  of  fire- 
bells,  and  the  sounds  of  some  kind  of  disturbance.  What 
does  it  all  mean?  and  why  do  you  bar  and  bolt  everything 
so  timidly  ?"  and  the  excited  girl  poured  out  her  words  in 
a  torrent. 

Merwyn' s  first  words  were  exasperating,  and  the  girl  had 
already  passed  almost  beyond  self-control.  ''Has  anyone 
seen  your  colored  servant  to-day?"' 

"What  if  they  have?  What  does  your  unseemly  guise 
mean  ?  Oh,  that  my  brave  friends  were  here  to  go  out  and 
meet  the  rabble  like  soldiers!  There's  an  outbreak,  of 
course;  we've  been  expecting  it;  but  certainly  men  should 
not  fear  the  canaille  of  the  slums.  It  gives  me  a  sickening 
impression,  Mr.  Merwyn,  to  see  you  rush  in,  almost  force 
your  way  in,  and  disguised  too,  as  if  you  sought  safety  by 
identifying  yourself  with  those  who  would  quail  before  a 
brave,  armed  man.  Pardon  me  if  I'm  severe,  but  I  feel 
that  my  father  is  in  danger,  and  if  I  don't  hear  from  him 
soon  I  shall  take  Mammy  Borden  as  escort  and  go  to  his 
office.  Whoever  is  abroad,  they  won't  molest  women,  and 
F m  not  afraid." 

"By  so  doing  you  would  disobey  your  father,  who  has 
told  you  not  to  leave  the  house  to-day." 

"But  I  can't  bear  inaction  and  suspense  at  such  a 
time." 

"You  must  bear  it,  Miss  Vosburgh.  Seeing  the  mood 
you  are  in,  I  shall  not  permit  that  door  to  be  opened  to  any 
one  except  your  father  or  some  one  that  you  recognize." 

"You  cannot  help  yourself,"  she  replied,  scornfully, 
approaching  the  door. 

He  was  there  before  her,  and,  taking  out  the  key,  put  it 
in  his  pocket. 


THE    "COWARD"  413 

"Oh,  this  is  shameful!"  she  cried,  blushing  scarlet, 
"Can  your  fears  carry  you  so  far?" 

"Yes,  and  much  further,  if  needful,"  he  replied,  with  a 
grim  laugh.  "When  you  are  calm  enough  to  listen  to  me, 
to  be  sane  and  just,  I'll  explain.  Until  you  are  I  shall  re- 
main master  here  and  protect  you  and  your  home.  "  Then, 
in  a  tone  of  stern  authority,  he  added:  "Mrs.  Borden,  sit 
yonder  in  that  darkened  parlor,  and  don't  move  unless  I 
tell  you  to  hide.  Then  hide  in  earnest,  as  you  value  your 
life." 

"Would  you  not  also  like  a  hiding-place  provided,  Mr. 
Merwyn?'  Marian  asked,  almost  beside  herself  with  anger 
and  anxiety. 

His  reply  was  to  go  to  the  window  and  look  up  and  down 
the  still  quiet  street. 

"A  respite,"  he  remarked,  then  turned  to  the  colored 
woman,  and  in  a  tone  which  she  instantly  obeyed,  said, 
"Go  to  that  parlor,  where  you  cannot  be  seen  from  the 
street."     Then  to  Marian,  "I  have  no  authority  over  you." 

"No,  I  should  hope  not.  Is  there  no  escape  from  this 
intrusion?" 

"None  for  the  present,"  he  replied,  coldly.  "You  set- 
tled it  long  since  that  I  was  a  coward,  and  now  that  I  am 
not  a  gentleman.  I  shall  make  no  self-defence  except  to 
your  father,  whom  I  expect  momentarily.  He  cannot  leave 
you  alone  to-day  an  instant  longer  than  is  unavoidable.  I 
wish  to  remind  you  of  one  thing,  however:  your  soldier 
friends  have  long  been  your  pride." 

"Oh,  that  these  friends  were  here  to-day!" 

"They  would  be  surprised  at  your  lack  of  quiet  forti- 
tude." 

"Must  I  be  humiliated  in  my  own  home  ?" 

"You  are  humiliating  yourself.  Had  you  treated  me 
with  even  your  old  cool  toleration  and  civility,  I  would 
have  told  you  all  that  has  happened  since  morning;  but 
you  have  left  me  no  chance  for  anything  except  to  take  the 
precautions  needful  to  save  your  home  and  yourself.     You 


414  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

think  I  fled  here  as  a  disguised  fugitive.  When  shall  I  for- 
get this  crowning  proof  of  your  estimate  and  esteem  ?  You 
see  I  did  not  come  unarmed,"  partially  drawing  a  revolver. 
4kI  repeat,  you  are  proud  of  your  soldier  friends.  You  have 
not  learned  that  the  first  duty  of  a  soldier  is  to  obey  orders; 
and  you  have  your  father's  orders.  Obey  them  quietly,  and 
you  are  under  no  necessity  to  speak  to  me  again.  When 
your  father  comes  I  will  relieve  you  of  my  hated  presence. 
If  he  wishes  it,  I  will  still  serve  you  both  for  his  sake,  for 
he  always  kept  a  little  faith  and  fairness  for  me.  Now,  re- 
gard me  as  a  sentinel,  a  common  soldier,  to  whom  you  need 
not  speak  until  your  father  comes;"  and  he  turned  to  the 
windows  and  began  fastening  them. 

He,  too,  was  terribly  incensed.  He  had  come  to  inter- 
pose his  life  between  her  and  danger,  and  her  words  and 
manner  had  probed  a  deep  wound  that  had  long  been  bleed- 
ing. The  scenes  he  had  witnessed  had  wrought  him  up  to 
a  mood  as  stern  and  uncompromising  as  the  death  he  soon 
expected  to  meet.  When  utterly  off  her  guard  she  had 
shown  him,  as  he  believed,  her  utter  contempt  and  detesta- 
tion, and  at  that  moment  there  was  not  a  more  reckless  man 
in  the  city. 

But  his  bitter  words  and  indomitable  will  had  quieted 
her.  As  he  stood  motionless  upon  guard  by  the  window, 
his  was  not  the  attitude  of  a  cowering  fugitive.  She  now 
admitted  that  her  wild  excitement  and  her  disposition  to 
rush  to  her  father,  contrary  to  his  injunction,  were  un- 
worthy of  her  friends  and  of  herself. 

There  had  been  panic  that  morning  in  the  city,  and  she 
had  caught  the  contagion  in  a  characteristic  way.  She  had 
had  no  thought  of  hiding  and  cowering,  but  she  had  been 
on  the  eve  of  carrying  out  rash  impulses.  She  had  given 
way  to  uncontrollable  excitement;  and  if  her  father  should 
learn  all  she  feared  he  would  send  her  from  the  city  as  one 
not  to  be  trusted.  What  should  she  think  of  that  silent, 
motionless  sentinel  at  the  window  ?  Suppose,  after  all,  she 
had  misunderstood   and  misjudged    him — suppose   he  had 


THE    "COWARD"  415 

come  for  her  protection.  In  view  of  this  possiblity  which 
she  had  now  to  entertain,  how  grossly  she  had  insulted 
him!  If  her  father  came  and  approved  of  his  course,  how 
could  she  ever  look  one  so  wronged  in  the  face  again  ?  She 
must  try  to  soften  her  words  a  little.  Woman-like,  she  be- 
lieved that  she  could  certainly  soothe  a  man  as  far  as  she 
deemed  it  judicious,  and  then  leave  the  future  for  further 
diplomacy.  Coward,  or  not,  he  had  now  made  her  afraid 
of  him. 

"  Mr.  Merwyn,"  she  began. 

He  made  no  response  whatever. 
Again,  in  a  lower  and  more  timid  voice,  she  repeated  his 

name. 

Without  turning,  he  said:  "Miss  Vosburgh,  I'm  on 
guard.  You  interfere  with  my  duty.  There  is  no  reason 
for  further  courtesies  between  us.  If  you  are  sufficiently 
calm,  aid  Mrs.  Borden  in  packing  such  belongings  as  she 
actually  needs.  She  must  leave  this  house  as  soon  as 
possible." 

"What!"  cried  the  girl,  hotly,  "send  this  faithful  old 
woman  out  into  the  streets?     Never." 

"I  did  not  say,  'out  into  the  streets.'  When  your  father 
comes  one  of  his  first  efforts  will  be  to  send  her  to  a  place 
of  safety.  No  doubt  he  has  already  warned  her  son  to  find 
a  hiding-place." 

"Great  heavens!  why  don't  you  explain?" 

11  What  chance  have  I  had  to  explain  ?  Ah !  come  here, 
and  all  will  be  plain  enough." 

She  stood  at  his  side  and  saw  a  gang  of  men,  and  boys 
chasing  a  colored  man,  with  the  spirit  of  bloodhounds  in 
their  tones  and  faces. 

"Now  I'se  understan',  too,  Mass'r  Merwyn,"  said  the 
trembling  colored  woman,  looking  over  their  shoulders. 

"Go  back,"  he  said,  sternly.  "If  you  were  seen,  that 
yelling  pack  of  fiends  would  break  into  this  house  as  if  it 
were  paste-board.  Obey  orders,  both  of  you,  and  keep  out 
of  sight." 


416  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Awed,  overwhelmed,  they  stole  to  the  back  parlor;  but 
Marian  soon  faltered,  '"Oh,  Mr.  Merwvn,  won't  3'ou  for- 
give me  ?' ' 

He  made  no  reply,  and  a  moment  later  he  stepped  to  the 
door.  Mr.  Vosburgh  hastily  entered,  and  Marian  rushed 
into  his  arms. 

"What,  Merwy n !  you  here  ?  Thank  God  my  darling  was 
not  alone!  Well,  Merwvn,  you've  got  to  play  the  soldier 
now,  and  so  have  we  all." 

"I  shall  not  'play  the  soldier' ;"  was  the  reply,  in  quick, 
firm  utterance.  "But  no  matter  about  me,  except  that  my 
time  is  limited.  I  wish  to  report  to  you  certain  things  which 
I  have  seen,  and  leave  it  to  your  decision  whether  I  can 
serve  you  somewhat,  and  whether  Miss  Vosburgh  should 
remain  in  the  city.  I  would  also  respectfully  suggest  that 
your  colored  servant  be  sent  out  of  town  at  once.  I  offer 
my  services  to  convey  her  to  New  Jersey,  if  you  know  of 
a  near  refuge  there,  or  else  to  my  place  in  the  country." 

"Good  God,  Merwyn!  don't  you  know  that  by  such  an 
act  you  take  your  life  in  your  hand  ?" 

•'I  have  already  taken  it  in  my  hand,  an  open  hand  at 
that.  It  has  become  of  little  value  to  me.  But  we  have  not 
a  second  to  lose.  I  have  a  very  sad  duty  to  perform  at  once, 
and  only  stayed  till  you  came.  If  you  have  learned  the  spirit 
abroad  to-day,  you  know  that  your  household  was  and  is  in 
danger." 

1 '  Alas !  I  know  it  only  too  well.  The  trouble  had  scarcely 
begun  before  I  was  using  agents  and  telegraph  wires.  I  have 
also  been  to  police  headquarters.  Only  the  sternest  sense  of 
duty  to  the  government  kept  me  so  long  from  my  child; 
but  a  man  at  Washington  is  depending  on  me  for  informa- 
tion. ' ' 

"So  I  supposed.  I  may  be  able  to  serve  you,  if  you  can 
bring  yourself  to  employ  a  coward.  I  shall  be  at  police 
headquarters,  and  can  bring  you  intelligence.  When  not 
on  duty  you  should  be  in  the  streets  as  little  as  possible. 
But,  first,  I  would  respectfully  suggest  that  Miss  Vosburgh 


THE    "COWARD"  417 

retire,  for  I  have  things  to  say  to  yon  which  she  should 
not  hear. " 

4  k This   to    me,    who    listened    to    the    story    of   Gettys- 
burg?" 

"All  was  totally  different  then." 

"And  I,  apparently,  was  totally  different.  I  deserve 
your  reproach;  I  should  be  sent  to  the  nursery." 

"I  think  you  should  go  and  help  Mrs.  Borden,"  said 
Merwyn,  quietly. 

"It*s  impossible  to  send  Mammy  Borden  away  just  yet 

not  till  darkness  comes  to  aid  our  effort,"  said  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh,  decisively.  "You  can  serve  me  greatly,  Merwyn, 
and  your  country  also,  if  you  have  the  nerve.  It  will  re- 
quire great  risks.  I  tell  you  so  frankly.  This  is  going  to 
prove  worse  than  open  battle.  Oh,  Marian,  would  to  God 
von  were  with  your  mother!" 

"In  that  case  I  would  come  to  you  if  I  had  to  walk. 
1  have  wronged  and  insulted  you,  Mr.  Merwyn;  I  beg  your 
pardon.  Now  don't  waste  another  moment  on  me,  for  I  de- 
clare before  God  I  shall  remain  with  my  father  unless  taken 
away  by  force;  and  you  would  soon  find  that  the  most  fatal 
course  possible." 

"Well,  these  are  lurid  times.  I  dreaded  the  thing 
enongh,  but  now  that  it  has  come  so  unexpectedly,  it  is 
far  worse —  But  enough  of  this.  Mr.  Merwyn,  are  you 
willing  to  take  the  risks  that  I  shall?" 

"Yes,  on  condition  that  I  save  you  unnecessary 
risks. ' ' 

"Oh,  what  a  fool  I've  been!"  Marian  exclaimed,  with 
one  of  her  expressive  gestures. 

"Mr.  Vosburgh,"  said  Merwyn,  "there  is  one  duty  which 
I  feel  I  ought  to  perform  first  of  all.  Mrs.  Ghegan,  your  old 
waitress,  should  be  taken  to  her  husband." 

kkWhat!  Barney?     What  has  happened  to  him  ?" 

"I  fear  he  is  dead.     I  disguised  myself  as  you  see — " 

"Yes,  sensibly.  No  well-dressed  man  is  safe  on  some 
streets." 


418  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Certainly  not  where  I've  been.  I  determined  to  learn 
the  character  of  the  mob,  and  I  have  mingled  among  them 
all  the  morning.  I  saw  the  invalid  corps  put  to  flight  in- 
stantly, and  the  fight  with  a  handful  of  police  that  followed. 
I  looked  on,  for  to  take  part  was  to  risk  life  and  means  of 
knowledge  uselessly.  The  savage,  murderous  spirit  shown 
on  every  side  also  proved  that  your  household  might  be  in 
danger  while  you  were  absent.  The  police  fought  bravely 
and  vainly.  They  were  overpowered  as  a  matter  of  course, 
and  yet  the  police  will  prove  the  city's  chief  defence.  When 
I  saw  Barney  running  and  fighting  heroically  for  his  life,  I 
couldn't  remain  spectator  any  longer,  but  before  I  could 
reach  him  he  was  prostrate,  senseless,  and  nearly  stripped. 
With  my  revolver  and  a  little  persuasion  I  secured  his  body, 
and  took  it  to  a  hospital.  A  surgeon  thought  he  was  dead. 
I  don't  know,  but  that  his  wife  should  be  informed  and  go 
to  him  seems  only  common  humanity." 

"Well,  Merwyn,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh, 
dubiously;  "we  are  in  the  midst  of  a  great  battle,  and 
when  one  is  down—  Well,  the  cause  must  be  first,  you 
know.  Whether  this  is  a  part  of  the  rebellion  or  not,  it 
will  soon  be  utilized  by  the  Confederate  leaders.  What  I 
say  of  Barney  I  would  say  of  myself  and  mine — all  private 
considerations  must  give—" 

"I  understand,"  interrupted  Merwyn,  impatiently.  "But 
in  taking  Mrs.  Ghegan  across  town  I  could  see  and  learn  as 
much  as  if  alone,  and  she  would  even  be  a  protection  to  me. 
In  getting  information  one  will  have  to  use  every  subter- 
fuge. I  think  nothing  will  be  lost  by  this  act.  From  the 
hospital  I  will  go  direct  to  police  headquarters,  and  stipu- 
late as  to  my  service— for  I  shall  serve  in  my  own  way— 
and  then,  if  there  is  no  pressing  duty,  I  will  report  to  you 
again." 

Mr.  Vosburgh  sprang  up  and  wrung  the  young  fellow's 
hand  as  he  said:  "We  have  done  you  great  wrong.  I,  too, 
beg  your  pardon.  But  more  than  all  the  city  to  me  is  my 
duty  to  the  general  government.    To  a  certain  extent  I  must 


THE    "COWARD"  419 

keep  aloof  from  the  actual  scenes  of  violence,  or  I  fail  my 
employers  and  risk  vast  interests.  If  consistently  with  your 
ideas  of  duty  you  can  aid  me  now,  I  shall  be  more  grateful 
than  if  you  saved  my  life.  Information  now  may  be  vital 
to  the  nation's  safety.  You  may  find  me  at  police  head- 
quarters an  hour  or  two  hence." 

•"It  is  settled  then,  and  events  will  shape  future  action;" 
and  he  was  turning  hastily  away. 

A  hand  fell  upon  his  arm,  and  never  had  he  looked  upon 
a  face  in  which  shame  and  contrition  were  so  blended. 

•"What  will  be  your  future  action  toward  me  ?"  Marian 
asked,  as  she  detained  him.  "Will  you  have  no  mercy  on 
the  girl  who  wa3  so  weak  as  to  be  almost  hysterical  ?" 

1 '  You  have  redeemed  your  weakness, ' '  he  replied,  coldly. 
41  You  are  your  old  high-bred,  courageous  self,  and  you 
will  probably  cease  to  think  of  me  as  a  coward  before  the 
day  is  over.  Good-afternoon;"  and  in  a  moment  he  was 
gone. 

•'I  have  offended  him  beyond  hope,"  she  said,  as  she 
turned,  drooping,  to  her  father. 

"Never  imagine  it,  darling,"  her  father  replied,  with  a 
smile.  "His  lip  quivered  as  you  spoke,  and  I  have  learned 
to  read  the  faintest  signs  in  a  man.  You  have  both  been 
overwrought  and  in  no  condition  for  calm,  natural  action. 
Merwyn  will  relent.  You  lost  your  poise  through  excite- 
ment, not  cowardice,  and  he,  young  and  all  undisciplined, 
has  witnessed  scenes  that  might  appall  a  veteran.  But  now 
all  must  be  courage  and  action.  Since  you  will  remain  with 
me  you  must  be  a  soldier,  and  be  armed  like  one.  Come 
with  me  to  my  room,  and  1  will  give  you  a  small  revolver. 
I  am  glad  that  you  have  amused  yourself  with  the  danger- 
ous toy,  and  know  how  to  use  it  Then  you  must  help  me 
plan  a  disguise  which  will  almost  deceive  your  eyes. 
Keeping  busy,  my  dear,  will  prove  the  best  tonic  for  your 
nerves.  Mammy  Borden,  you  must  go  to  your  room  and 
stay  there  till  we  find  a  way  of  sending  you  to  a  place  of 
safety.     After  you  have  disappeared  for  a  time  I'll  tell  the 


420  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

other  servant  that  you  have  gone  away.  I  sent  your  son 
home  before  I  left  the  office,  and  he,  no  doubt,  is  keeping 
out  of  harm's  way. " 

The  old  woman  courtesied,  but  there  was  a  dogged, 
hunted  look  in  her  eyes  as  she  crept  away,  muttering,  k'Dis 
is  what  Zeb  call  de  'Ian1  ob  de  free!'  " 


A    WIFE'S    EMBRACE  421 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

A      WIFE'S      EMBRACE 

K/^VH,  PAPA,''  cried  Marian,  after  reaching  the  li- 
I  1  brary,  "we  let  Mr.  Merwyn  go  without  a  lunch. 
^— *  and  it's  nearly  two  o'clock.  Nor  do  I  believe 
you  have  had  a  mouthful  since  breakfast,  and  I've  for- 
gotten all  about  providing  anything.  Oh,  how  signally  I 
have  failed  on  the  first  day  of  battle!" 

"You  are  not  the  first  soldier,  by  untold  millions,  who 
has  done  so;  but  you  have  not  shown  the  white  feather  yet." 

"When  I  do  that  I  shall  expire  from  shame.  You  rum- 
mage for  a  disguise,  and  I'll  be  back  soon." 

She  hastened  to  the  kitchen,  and  at  a  glance  saw  that  the 
Irish  cook  had  fled,  taking  not  a  little  with  her.  The  range 
fire  was  out,  and  the  refrigerator  and  the  store-closet  had 
been  ravaged.  She  first  barred  and  bolted  all  the  doors, 
and  then  the  best  she  could  bring  her  father  was  crackers 
and  milk  and  some  old  Sherry  wine;  but  she  nearly  dropped 
these  when  she  saw  a  strange  man,  as  she  supposed,  emerge 
from  his  bedroom. 

Mr.  Vosburgh's  laugh  reassured  her,  and  he  said:  "I 
fancy  I  shall  pass  among  strangers,  since  you  don't  know 
me.  Nothing  could  be  better  than  the  milk  and  crackers. 
No  wine.  My  head  must  be  clearer  to-day  than  it  ever  was 
before.  So  the  Irish  Biddy  has  gone  with  her  plunder? 
Good  riddance  to  her.  She  would  have  been  a  spy  in  the 
camp.  I'll  bring  home  food  that  won't  require  cooking, 
and  you'll  have  to  learn  to  make  coffee,  for  Merwyn  and 
others  will,  no  doubt,  often  come  half  dead  from  fatigue. 


421  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

All  we  can  do  is  to  forage  in  such  shops  as  are  open,  and 
you'll  have  to  take  the  office  of  commissary  at  once.  You 
must  also  be  my  private  secretary.  As  fast  as  I  write  these 
despatches  and  letters  copy  them  I  can  eat  and  write  at 
the  same  time.     In  an  hour  I  must  go  out  " 

"I  won't  play  the  fool  again,"  said  the  girlf  doggedly. 

"Drink  this  glass  of  milk  first,  while  I  run  down  foi 
more,  and  satisfy  my  mind  as  to  the  fastenings,  etc." 

"But,  papa—" 

"Marian,"  he  said,  gravely,  "you  can  stay  with  me  only 
on  one  condition:  you  must  obey  orders." 

"That  is  what  Mr.  Merwyn  said.  Oh,  what  a  credit  I've 
been  to  my  military  friends!"  and  with  difficulty  she  drank 
the  milk. 

1 1  You  are  a  promising  young  recruit, ' '  was  the  smiling 
reply.     "We'll  promote  you  before  the  week's  out." 

In  five  minutes  he  was  back,  cool,  yet  almost  as  quick  as 
light  in  every  movement. 

The  despatches  she  copied  were  unintelligible  to  Marian, 
but  the  one  to  whom  they  were  addressed  had  the  key.  The 
copies  of  the  letters  were  placed  in  a  secret  drawer. 

When  their  tasks  were  finished,  Mr.  Vosburgh  looked 
up  and  down  the  street  and  was  glad  to  find  it  compara- 
tively empty.     The  storm  of  passion  was  raging  elsewhere. 

He  closed  all  the  shutters  of  the  house,  giving  it  a  de- 
serted aspect,  then  said  to  his  daughter:  "You  must  admit 
no  one  in  my  absence,  and  parley  with  no  one  who  does  not 
give  the  password,  'Gettysburg  and  Little  Bound  Top.'  If 
men  should  come  who  say  these  words,  tell  them  to  linger 
near  without  attracting  attention,  and  come  again  after  I 
return.  Admit  Merwyn,  of  course,  for  you  know  his  voice. 
It  is  a  terrible  trial  to  leave  you  alone,  but  there  seems  to 
be  no  prospect  of  trouble  in  this  locality.  At  all  events, 
I  must  do  my  duty,  cost  what  it  may.  Be  vigilant,  and 
do  not  worry  unnecessarily  if  I  am  detained." 

"I  am  bent  on  retrieving  myself,  papa;  and  I'd  rather 
die  than  be  so  weak  again." 


A    WIFE'S    EMBRACE  423 

"That's  my  brave  girl.  You  won't  die.  After  this 
venture,  which  I  must  make  at  once,  I  shall  be  able  to 
take  greater  precautions;"  and  with  a  fond  look  and  kiss, 
he  hastened  away  through  the  basement  entrance,  Marian 
fastening  it  securely  after  him. 

We  must  now  follow  Merwyn's  fortunes  for  a  time. 
Rapidly,  yet  vigilantly  he  made  his  way  uptown  and 
crossed  Third  Avenue.  He  soon  observed  that  the  spirit 
of  lawlessness  was  increasing.  Columns  of  smoke  were 
rising  from  various  points,  indicating  burning  buildings, 
and  in  Lexington  Avenue  he  witnessed  the  unblushing 
sack  of  beautiful  homes,  from  which  the  inmates  had  been 
driven  in  terror  for  their  lives. 

''It  will  be  strange  if  Mr.  Vosburgh's  home  escapes," 
he  thought.     liSome  one  must  know  enough  of  his  calling 

C  CO 

to  bring  upon  him  and  his  the  vengeance  of  the  mob.  I 
shall  do  the  best  I  can  for  him  and  his  daughter,  but  to-day 
has  slain  the  la3t  vestige  of  hope  beyond  that  of  compelling 
her  respect.  Wholly  off  her  guard,  she  showed  her  deep- 
rooted  detestation,  and  she  can  never  disguise  it  again. 
Regret  and  mortification  at  her  conduct,  a  wish  to  make 
amends  and  to  show  gratitude  for  such  aid  as  I  may  give 
her  father,  will  probably  lead  her  to  be  very  gracious;  at 
the  same  time  I  shall  ever  know  that  in  her  heart  is  a 
repugnance  which  she  cannot  overcome.  A  woman  can 
never  love  a  man  toward  whom  she  has  entertained 
thoughts  like  hers;"  and  with  such  bitter  musings,  added 
to  his  reckless  impulses,  he  made  his  way  to  the  region  in 
which  Mrs.  Ghegan  had  her  rooms. 

Finding  a  livery  stable  near  he  hired  a  hack,  securing 
it  by  threats  as  well  as  money,  and  was  soon  at  the  door 
of  the  tenement   he   sought. 

Mrs.  Ghegan  showed  her  scared,  yet  pretty  face  in 
response  to  his  knock. 

•' Ye's  brought  me  bad  news,"  she  said,  instantly,  begin- 
ning to  sob. 

'"Yes,  Mrs.  Ghegan;   but  if  you  love  your  husband  you 


424  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

will  show  it  now.     I  have  come  to  take  you  to  him.    Re  has 
been  wounded." 

"Is  it  Mr.  Merwyn?" 

"Yes;  I've  just  come  from  Mr.  Vosburgb,  and  he  will 
do  what  he  can  for  you  when  he  has  a  chance.  They  kr.ow 
about  your  trouble.  Now  make  haste,  for  we've  not  a  mo- 
ment to  lose  in  reaching  the  hospital." 

"The  Lord  knows  1  love  Barney  as  me  loife,  an'  that  I'd 
go  to  him  through  fire  and  blood.  Oi'll  kape  ye  no  longer 
than  to  tie  me  bonnet  on;"  and  this  she  was  already  doing 
with  trembling  fingers. 

Locking  the  door,  she  took  the  key  with  her,  and  was 
soon  in  the  hack.  Merwyn  mounted  the  box  with  the 
driver,  knowing  that  openness  was  the  best  safeguard 
against  suspicions  that  might  soon  prove  fatal.  At  one 
point  they  were  surrounded  and  stopped  by  the  rioters, 
who  demanded  explanations. 

"Clear  out,  ye  bloody  divils!"  cried  Sally,  who  did  not 
count  timidity  among  her  foibles;  "wud  ye  kape  a  woman 
from  goin'  to  her  husband,  a-dyin'  beloikes  ?" 

"Oh,  let  us  pass,"  said  Merwyn,  in  a  loud  tone.  "A  cop 
knocked  her  husband  on  the  head,  and  we  are  taking  her 
to  him." 

"Och!  ye  are  roight,  me  mon.  We'll  let  onybody  pass 
who  spakes  in  her  swate  brogue;"   and  the  crowd  parted. 

Beaching  the  hospital,  Sally  rushed  into  the  office  with 
the  breathless  demand,  "Where's  Barney?" 

Merwyn  recognized  the  surgeon  he  had  met  before,  and 
said:  "You  know  the  man  I  brought  a  few  hours  since. 
This  is  his  wife." 

The  surgeon  looked  grave  and  hesitated. 

"What  have  ye  done  wid  him  ?"  Sally  almost  screamed. 
"Are  ye  no  better  than  the  bloody  villains  in  the  strates?" 

"My  good  woman,"  began  the  surgeon,  uyou  must  be 
more  composed  and  reasonable.  We  try  to  save  life  when 
there  is  life — " 

"Where  is  he?"  shrieked  the  woman. 


A    WIFE'S    EMBRACE  425 

The  surgeon,  accustomed  to  similar  scenes,  nodded  to  an 
attendant,  and  said,  gravely,  "Show  her." 

Merwyn  took  the  poor  woman's  hand  to  restrain  as  well 
as  to  reassure  her,  saying,  with  sympathies  deeply  touched, 
"Mrs.  Ghegan,  remember  you  are  not  friendless,  whatever 
happens." 

"Quick!  quick!"  she  said  to  her  guide.  "Och!  what's 
a  wurld  uv  frin's  if  I  lose  Barney?  Poor  man!  poor  man! 
He  once  said  I  blew  hot  and  could,  but  oi'd  give  him  me 
loife's  blood  now." 

To  Merwyn's  sorrow  they  were  led  to  the  dead-house, 
and  there  lay  the  object  of  their  quest,  apparently  lifeless, 
his  battered  face  almost  past  recognition.  But  Sally  knew 
him  instantly,  and  stared  for  a  moment  as  if  turned  to 
stone;  then,  with  a  wild  cry,  she  threw  herself  upon  him, 
moaning,  sobbing,  and  straining  his  unconscious  form  to 
her  breast. 

Merwyn  felt  that  it  would  be  best  to  let  her  paroxysm 
of  grief  expend  itself  unrestrained;  but  a  bitter  thought 
crossed  his  mind — "I  may  be  in  as  bad  a  plight  as  poor 
Barney  before  the  day  closes,  yet  no  one  would  grieve  for 
me  like  that. ' ' 

Suddenly  Mrs.  Ghegan  became  still.  In  her  embrace 
her  hand  had  rested  over  her  husband's  heart,  and  had  felt 
a  faint  pulsation.  A  moment  later  she  sprang  up  and  rushed 
back  to  the  office.  Merwyn  thought  that  she  was  partially 
demented,  and  could  scarcely  keep  pace  with  her. 

Bursting  in  at  the  door,  she  cried:  "Och!  ye  bloody  spal- 
panes,  to  put  a  loive  man  where  ye  did!  Come  wid  me,  an' 
oi'll  tache  ye  that  1  knows  more  than  ye  all." 

"Please  satisfy  her,"  said  Merwyn  to  the  surgeon,  who 
was  inclined  to  ignore  what  he  regarded  as  the  wild  ravings 
of  a  grief-crazed  woman. 

"Well,  well,  if  it  will  do  any  good;  but  we  have  too 
much  to  do  to-day  for  those  who  have  a  chance — " 

"Come  on,  or  oi'll  drag  ye  there,"  the  wife  broke  in. 

"When  I've  satisfied  you,  my  good  woman,  you  must 


426  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

become  quiet  and  civil.     Other  wives  have  lost  their  hus- 
bands— " 

But  Sally  was  already  out  of  hearing.  Beaching  the 
supposed  corpse,  the  deeply  excited  woman  said,  with  eyes 
blazing  through  her  tears,  "Put  yez  hand  on  his  heart." 

The  surgeon  did  so,  and  almost  instantly  the  expression 
of  his  face  changed,  and  he  said  sharply  to  the  attendant, 
"Bring  a  stretcher  with  bearers  at  once."  Then  to  Sally: 
li  You  are  right;  he  is  alive,  but  there  was  no  such  pulsation 
as  this  when  he  was  brought  here.  Now  be  quiet  and  cheer 
up,  and  we  may  help  you  save  his  life.  You  can  stay  and 
take  care  of  him. ' ' 

Merwyn  again  took  the  wife's  trembling  hand  and  said, 
earnestly:  "Mrs.  Ghegan,  obey  the  surgeon's  orders  ex- 
actly. Be  quiet,  gentle,  and  self-controlled,  and  Barney 
may  outlive  us  all." 

"Faix,  Mr.  Merwyn,  now  that  oi've  hope  I'll  be  whist 
as  a  baby  asleep.  Ye  knew  me  onst  as  a  light,  giddy  gurl, 
but  oi'll  watch  over  Barney  wid  such  a  slapeless  eye  as  wud 
shame  his  own  mither. 

And  she  kept  her  word.  For  days  and  nights  her  hus- 
band remained  unconscious,  wavering  between  life  and 
death.  The  faithful  woman,  as  indifferent  to  the  tumult 
and  havoc  in  the  city  as  if  it  were  in  another  land,  sat 
beside  him  and  furthered  all  efforts  in  a  winning  light. 

Merwyn  saw  him  in  a  hospital  ward,  surrounded  by 
skilful  hands,  before  he  took  his  leave. 

"God  bless  ye!"  Sally  began.  "If  yez  hadn't  brought 
me—" 

But,  pressing  her  hand  warmly,  he  did  not  wait  to  hear 
her  grateful  words. 


THE    DECISIVE    BATTLE  427 


M 


CHAPTER  XLV 

THE    DECISIVE   BATTLE 

EHWYN  was  now  very  anxious  to  reach  police  head- 
quarters in  Mulberry  Street,  for  he  felt  that  the 
safety  of  the  cit}r,  as  well  as  all  personal  interests 
dear  to  him,  depended  upon  adequate  and  well-organized 
resistance. 

The  driver,  having  been  promised  a  handsome  reward  to 
remain,  still  waited.  Indeed,  he  had  gained  the  impression 
that  Merwyn  was  in  sympathy  with  the  ruthless  forces  then 
in  the  ascendant,  and  he  felt  safer  in  his  company  than  if 
returning  alone. 

Mounting  the  box  again,  Merwyn  directed  the  driver  to 
make  his  way  through  the  more  open  streets  to  Broadway 
and  Fourteenth  Street. 

They  had  not  gone  far  through  the  disturbed  districts 
when  four  rough-looking  men  stopped  them,  took  posses- 
sion of  the  hack,  and  insolently  required  that  they  should 
be  driven  to  Union  Square.  The  last  ugly-visaged  person- 
age to  enter  the  vehicle  paused  a  moment,  drew  a  revolver, 
and  said,  "An'  ye  don't  'bey  orders,  this  little  bull-dog  will 
spake  to  ye  next." 

The  jehu  looked  with  a  pallid  face  at  Merwyn,  who  said, 
carelessly :  4  k  It's  all  right.     They  are  going  in  my  direction. ' ' 

The  quartet  within  soon  began  to  entertain  suspicions  of 
Merwyn,  and  the  one  who  had  last  spoken,  apparently  the 
leader,  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  window  and  shouted: 
"Shtop!     Who  the  divil  is  that  chap  on  the  box  wid  ye?" 

"I'll  answer  for  myself,"  said  Merwyn,  seeking  to  em- 


428  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ploy  the  vernacular  as  well  as  the  appearance  of  an  Ameri- 
can mechanic.  "The  driver  don't  know  anything  about 
me.  A  cop  knocked  a  friend  of  mine  on  the  head  this 
morning,  and  I've  been  taking  his  wife  to  him." 

The  driver  now  took  his  cue,  and  added,  "Faix,  and 
a  nice,  dacent  little  Irishwoman  she  was,  bedad. " 

"Then  ye' re  wan  wid  us  ?"  cried  the  leader  of  the  gang. 

"It  looks  mighty  like  it,"  was  the  laughing  reply. 
"This  would  be  a  poor  place  for  me  to  hang  out,  if  I  was 
afraid  of  you  or  your  friends. ' ' 

"  Yez  may  bet  your  loife  on  that.  How  coomes  it  ye're 
so  hand-and-glove  wid  an  Irishman,  when  ye  spake  no 
brogue  at  all?" 

"Thunder!  man,  do  you  think  no  one  but  Irishmen  are 
going  to  have  a  fist  in  this  scrimmage?  I'm  as  ready  to 
fight  as  you  are,  and  am  only  going  downtown  to  join  my 
own  gang.  Why  shouldn't  I  have  an  Irishman  for  a  friend, 
if  he's  a  good  fellow,  I'd  like  to  know  ?" 

"Beloikes  they'll  be  yez  best  frin's.  All  roight.  Dhrive 
on  and  moind  your  eyes,  or  the  bull-dog  will  bark." 

They  ordered  a  halt  several  times,  while  one  and  another 
went  to  a  saloon  for  a  drink.  It  was  fast  becoming  evident 
that,  should  there  be  any  want  of  courage  or  recklessness, 
whiskey  would  supply  the  lack. 

Merwyn  preserved  nonchalant  indifference,  even  when 
his  disreputable  companions  were  approached  by  those  with 
whom  they  were  in  league,  and  information  and  orders  were 
exchanged  which  he  partially  overheard.  Although  much 
was  said  in  a  jargon  that  he  scarcely  understood,  he  gath- 
ered that  nothing  less  was  on  foot  than  an  attack  on  police 
headquarters,  in  the  hope  of  crushing  at  the  start  the  power 
most  feared.  Therefore,  while  he  maintained  his  mask, 
every  sense  was  on  the  alert. 

At  length  they  reached  Union  Square,  and  the  occupants 
of  the  hack  alighted.  Two  went  east  and  one  west,  while 
the  leader  said  to  Merwyn,  who  had  also  jumped  down: 
"Take  me  to  your  gang.    We're  afther  neediDg  ivery  divil's 


THE    DECISIVE    BATTLE  429 

son  of  'im  widin  the  next  hour  or  so.  It's  a  big  game  we're 
playin'  now,  me  lad,  an'  see  that  ye  play  square  and  thrue, 
or  your  swateheart'll  miss  ye  the  noight " 

11  You'll  have  to  have  a  bigger  crowd  on  Broadway  before 
you'll  get  our  fellows  out,"  Merwyn  replied.  "We're  not 
going  to  face  the  cops  until  there's  enough  on  hand  to  give 
us  a  livin'  chance." 

"There'll  be  plenty  on  hand— more'n  ye  ever  seed  in  yer 
loife— before  ye' re  an  hour  older.  So  lead  on,  and  shtop 
your  palaver.     I'm  not  quite  sure  on  ye  yet. " 

"You  soon  will  be,"  replied  Merwyn,  with  his  reckless 
and  misleading  laugh.  "My  course  is  down  Broadway  to 
Bleecker  Street  and  then  west.  I  can  show  you  as  pretty 
a  lot  of  fellows  as  you'll  want  to  see,  and  most  of  us  are 
armed." 

"All  roight.  Broadway  suits  me.  I  want  to  see  if  the 
coast  is  clear." 

"So  do  I,  and  what  the  cops  are  about  in  these  diggin's. 
The  right  thing  to  do  is  for  all  hands  to  pitch  right  on  to 
them  in  Mulberry  Street,  and  then  the  game's  in  our  own 
hands." 

"If  that's  the  lark  we  have  on  foot,  can  ye  promise  that 
yer  gang'll  join  us?" 

"Yes,  sir,  for  we'd  know  that  meant  business." 

"How  many  could  ye  muster?" 

"I  hardly  know.     We  were  a-growin'  fast  when  I  left." 

"Well,  lead  on  loively.  Ivery  minute  now  should  give 
me  a  dozen  men,  an'  we  want  to  start  the  blaze  down  this 
way.     I  tell  ye  it's  a  burning-up  town." 

4 'So  I  should  guess  from  the  smoke  we  see,"  said  Mer- 
wyn, with  his  old  laugh.  "Jupiter!  there  comes  a  squad  of 
cops. ' ' 

"Well,  what  do  we  care?  We're  two  paceable,  dacent 
citizens,  a-strollin'  down  Broadway." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  afraid,"  was  the  careless  reply.  "I'm 
going  to  see  this  scrimmage  out,  and  I  like  the  fun.  Let's 
watch  the  cops  cross  the  street,  and  see  how  they  are  armed.  " 


430  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

As  the  little  squad  approached  Broadway  from  a  side- 
street,  hastening  to  headquarters,  the  Hibernian  firebrand 
and  his  supposed  ally  stood  on  the  curbstone.  A  moment 
later  Merwyn  struck  his  companion  such  a  powerful  blow 
on  the  temple  that  he  fell  in  the  street,  almost  in  iront  of 
the  officers  of  the  law.  The  young  fellow  then  sprang  upon 
the  stunned  and  helpless  man,  and  took  away  his  weapons, 
at  the  same  time  crying:  "Secure  him.  He's  a  leader  of 
the  mob." 

"Yes,  and  you  too,  my  hard  hitter, ';  said  the  sergeant  in 
command. 

"I'll  go  quietly  enough,  so  long  as  you  take  him  with 
me.  Be  quick  about  it,  too,  for  I  have  news  that  should  be 
known  at  headquarters  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  police  now  supposed  that  they  recognized  one  of  a 
band  of  detectives,  everywhere  busy  about  the  city  in  all 
kinds  of  disguises — men  of  wonderful  nerve,  who  rendered 
the  authorities  very  important  services,  and  often  captured 
the  most  dangerous  of  the  ruffianly  leaders. 

The  fellow  in  question  was  hustled  to  his  feet,  having 
discovered  Merwyn1  s  gang  sooner  than  he  desired.  The 
iquad  pushed  through  the  fast-gathering  and  bewildered 
crowd,  and  soon  reached  headquarters.  The  young  fellow 
told  his  story  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Vosburgh,  who  evi- 
dently had  credentials  which  secured  for  him  absolute  con- 
fidence on  the  part  of  the  authorities. 

Merwyn  soon  learned  to  recognize  in  his  interlocutor, 
the  superintendent  of  the  metropolitan  police,  a  man  to 
whose  active  brain,  iron  will,  and  indomitable  courage  the 
city  chiefly  owed  its  deliverance— Thomas  C.  Acton. 

Confirmation  of  the  sinister  tidings  was  already  coming 
in  fast.  The  brutal  mob  that  had  sacked  and  burned  the 
Colored  Orphan  Asylum  was  moving  southward,  growing 
with  accessions  from  different  quarters,  like  a  turbulent 
torrent.  Its  destination  was  well  understood,  and  Acton 
knew  that  the  crisis  had  come  thus  early.  He  frequently 
conferred  with   Chief  Clerk  Seth   C.  Hawley,  upon  whom, 


THE   DECISIVE    BATTLE  431 

next  to  himself,  rested  the  heaviest  burdens  of  those  ter- 
rific days. 

Merwyn  orlered  his  services  on  the  force,  stipulating, 
however,  that  he  might  be  in  a  measure  his  own  master, 
since  he  had  other  duties  to  perform,  at  the  same  time 
promising  to  do  his  share  of  the  fighting. 

Mr.  Vosburgh  drew  Acton  to  oue  side,  and  made  a  few 
whispered  explanations.  Merwyn's  request  was  granted  at 
once,  Acton  adding,  "There  will  be  a  general  call  in  the 
morning  papers  for  the  enrolment  of  citizens  as  policemen." 

The  moments  were  crowded  with  preparations,  counsels, 
and  decisions.  The  telegraph  wires,  concentring  there  from 
all  parts  of  the  city,  were  constantly  ticking  ofi  direful  in- 
telligence; but  the  most  threatening  fact  was  the  movement 
down  Broadway  of  unknown  thousands,  maddened  by  liquor, 
and  confident  from  their  unchecked  excesses  during  the  day. 
They  knew  that  they  had  only  to  destroy  the  handful  of  men 
at  police  headquarters  and  the  city  was  theirs  to  plunder  and 
destroy  with  hyena- like  savagery. 

Acton,  now  cognizant  of  the  worst,  went  to  the  police 
commissioners'  room  and  said:  "Gentlemen,  the  crisis  has 
come.  A  battle  must  be  fought  now,  and  won,  too,  or  all 
is  lost." 

None  doubted  the  truth  of  his  word ;  but  who  should 
lead  the  small  force  at  hand  ?  Inspector  Carpenter's  name 
was  suggested,  for  he  was  known  to  be  a  man  of  great  reso- 
lution and  courage,  and  leadership  naturally  fell  to  him  as 
one  of  the  oldest  and  most  experienced  members  of  the 
force.  Acton  instructed  him  not  only  that  a  battle  must 
be  fought  immediately,  but  also  that  it  must  be  successful. 
Carpenter  listened  quietly,  comprehending  both  the  peril 
and  the  necessity;  then  after  a  moment's  hesitation  he  rose 
to  his  full  height,  and  with  an  impressive  gesture  and  a  ter- 
rible oath  said,  "I  will  go,  and  I'll  win  that  fight,  or  Daniel 
Carpenter  will  never  come  back  a  live  man." 

He  instantly  summoned  his  insignificant  force,  and  the 
order,  "Fall  in,  men,"  resounded  through  the  street. 


432  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Merwyn,  with  a  policeman's  coat  buttoned  over  his 
blouse,  avowed  his  purpose  of  going  with  them;  and  his 
exploit  of  the  afternoon,  witnessed  and  bruited  by  members 
of  the  force,  made  his  presence  welcome. 

It  was  now  between  five  and  six  in  the  evening.  The  air 
was  hot  and  sultry,  and  in  the  west  lowered  heavy  clouds, 
from  which  the  thunder  muttered.  Emblematic  they  seemed 
to  such  as  heeded  them  in  the  intense  excitement. 

Few  in  the  great  city  at  that  hour  were  so  deeply  stirred 
as  Merwyn.  The  tremendous  excitements  of  the  day,  to 
which  his  experience  at  Mr.  Yosburgh's  residence  had 
chiefly  contributed,  were  cumulative  in  their  effect.  Now 
he  had  reached  the  goal  of  his  hope,  and  had  obtained  an 
opportunity,  far  beyond  his  wildest  dreams,  to  redeem  his 
character  from  the  imputation  of  cowardice.  He  was  part 
of  the  little  force  which  might  justly  be  regarded  as  a  "for- 
lorn hope."  The  fate  of  the  city  depended  upon  its  des- 
perate valor,  and  no  one  knew  this  better  than  he,  who, 
from  early  morning,  had  witnessed  the  tiger-spirit  of  the 
mob.  If  the  thousands,  every  minute  approaching  nearer, 
should  annihilate  the  handful  of  men  who  alone  were  pres- 
ent to  cope  with  them,  that  very  night  the  city  would  be  at 
the  mercy  of  the  infuriated  rioters,  and  not  a  home  would 
be  secure  from  outrage. 

The  column  of  police  was  formed  scarcely  two  hundred 
strong.  Merwyn,  as  a  new  recruit,  was  placed  in  its  rear, 
a  position  that  he  did  not  mean  to  keep  when  the  fight 
should  begin.  Like  the  others,  he  was  armed  with  a  locust- 
club,  but  he  had  two  revolvers  on  his  person,  and  these  he 
knew  how  to  use  with  fatal  precision.  From  an  open  win- 
dow Superintendent  Acton  shouted,  "Inspector  Carpenter, 
my  orders  are,  Make  no  arrests,  bring  no  prisoners,  but  kill 
—  kill  every  time." 

It  was  to  be  a  life-and-death  struggle.  The  mob  would 
have  no  mercy;  the  officers  of  the  law  were  commanded  to 
show  none. 

As  Carpenter  went  forward  to  the  head  of  his  column, 


THE   DECISIVE    BATTLE  433 

his  face  as  dark  with  his  sanguinary  purpose  as  the  lower- 
ing west,  Merwyn  saw  that  Mr.  Vosburgh,  quiet  and  obser- 
vant, was  present. 

The  government  officer,  with  his  trained  instincts,  knew 
just  where  to  be,  in  order  to  obtain  the  most  vital  informa- 
tion. He  now  joined  Merwyn,  and  was  struck  by  his  ex- 
treme pallor,  a  characteristic  of  the  young  fellow  under 
extreme  emotion. 

"Mr.  Merwyn,"  he  said,  hastily,  "you  have  done  enough 
for  two  to-day.  You  need  rest.  This  is  going  to  be  a  des- 
perate encounter." 

"Forward!"  shouted  Carpenter. 

A  proud  smile  lighted  up  Merwyn's  features,  as  he  said: 
"Good-by.  Thank  you  for  such  faith  as  you  have  had  in 
me;"  and  he  moved  off  with  the  others. 

Mr.  Vosburgh  muttered,  "I  shall  see  this  fight,  and  I 
shall  solve  that  embodied  mystery  whom  we  have  thought 
a  coward";  and  he  followed  so  near  as  to  keep  Merwyn 
under  his  eye. 

A  black,  sulphurous  cloud  was  rising  in  the  west.  This 
little  dark  blue  column  approaching  from  the  east,  march- 
ing down  Bleecker  Street,  was  insignificant  in  comparison, 
yet  it  was  infinitely  the  more  dangerous,  and  charged  with 
forces  that  would  scatter  death  and  wounds  such  as  the  city 
had  never  witnessed. 

No  words  were  spoken  by  the  resolute  men.  The  stony 
pavement  echoed  their  measured,  heavy  tread.  Turning 
into  Broadway  they  saw  the  enemy  but  a  block  and  a  half 
away,  a  howling  mob,  stretching  northward  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach.  It  was  sweeping  the  thoroughfare,  thou- 
sands in  line.  Pedestrians,  stages,  vehicles  of  all  kinds, 
were  vanishing  down  side  streets.  Pallid  shopkeepers  were 
closing  their  stores  as  sailors  take  in  sail  before  a  cyclone. 

Carpenter  halted  his  command,  and  sent  small  detach- 
ments up  parallel  side  streets,  that  they  might  come  around 
and  fall  upon  the  flanks  of  the  mob. 

As  these  men  were  moving  off  on  the  double-quick,  Mer- 

Roe— VI— 19 


434  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

wyn  left  his  squad  and  said  to  Carpenter:  "lama  citizen, 
and  I  stipulated  that  I  should  fight  as  I  chose.  I  choose 
to  fight  with  you." 

"Well,  well,  so  long  as  you  fight,"  was  the  hasty  an- 
swer. "You  shall  have  plenty  of  it,  if  you  keep  near  me.' 
Then  he  added,  sternly:  "Mark  you,  young  fellow,  if  you 
show  the  white  feather  I'll  knock  you  over  myself.  Those 
devils  yonder  must  be  taught  that  the  one  thing  this  force 
can't  do  is  run." 

"Brain  me  if  I  do  not  do  my  whole  duty,"  was  the  firm 
reply ;  and  he  took  his  place  at  the  right  of  the  front  rank. 
A  moment  later  he  was  startled  by  Mr.  Yosburgh,  who 
seized  his  hand  and  said,  earnestly:  "Merwyn,  no  man  ever 
did  a  braver  thing  than  you  are  doing  now.  I  can't  forgive 
myself  that  I  wronged  you  in  my  thoughts. 

"You  had  reason.  I'm  doing  no  better  than  these  other 
men,  and  I  have  a  thousand-fold  their  motive."  Then  he 
added,  gravely,  "I  do  not  think  you  ought  to  be  here  and 
your  daughter  alone." 

"I  know  my  duty,"  was  the  quiet  reply;  "and  there  are 
those  who  must  be  informed  of  the  issue  of  this  fight  as  soon 
as  it  is  over.  Once  more,  farewell,  my  brave  friend;"  and 
he  disappeared. 

Carpenter  was  holding  his  force  until  his  flanking  de- 
tachments should  reach  their  co-operative  points.  When 
the  mob  saw  the  police,  it  advanced  more  slowly,  as  if  it, 
too,  instinctively  recognized  that  the  supreme  crisis  was 
near.  In  the  van  of  the  dense  mass  a  large  board  was  borne 
aloft,  inscribed  with  the  words,  "No  Draft!"  and  beside  it, 
in  mocking  irony,  floated  the  stars  and  stripes. 

The  hesitation  of  the  rioters  was  but  brief.  They  mis. 
took  the  inaction  of  the  few  policemen  opposed  to  them  for 
timidity,  and  the  immense  masses  behind  pushed  them  for- 
ward. Therefore,  with  a  new  impetus,  the  howling,  yelling 
throng  approached,  and  Merwyn  could  distinguish  the  fea- 
tures of  the  liquor-inflamed,  maddened  faces  that  were  already 
becoming  familiar  to  him.     In  the  sultry  July  evening  the 


THE   DECISIVE   BATTLE  435 

greater  part  of  the  rioters  were  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  and 
they  were  armed  with  every  description  of  weapon,  iron 
bars,  clubs,  pitchforks,  barrel-staves,  and  not  a  few  with 
guns  and  pistols. 

Carpenter  stood  out  before  his  men,  watching  the  ap- 
proach of  his  victims  with  an  expression  which  only  the 
terrible  excitement  of  battle  can  produce.  His  men,  be- 
hind him,  were  like  statues.  Suddenly  his  stentorian  com- 
mand rang  out — 

14  By  the  right  flank,  company  front!  double  quick!  charge!" 

As  if  the  lever  of  a  powerful  engine  had  been  pressed, 
all  clubs  were  raised  aloft,  and  with  swift,  even  tread  the 
trained,  powerful  men  rushed  after  their  leader,  who  kept 
several  paces  ahead. 

When  such  a  disciplined  force,  with  such  a  leader,  have 
resolved  to  fight  till  they  die,  their  power  is  not  to  be  esti- 
mated by  numbers.  They  smote  the  astonished  van  of  the 
mob  like  a  thunderbolt,  Carpenter  leading  by  several  steps, 
his  face  aflame  with  his  desperate  resolve.  He  dealt  the 
first  blow,  sending  down,  bleeding  and  senseless,  a  huge 
ruffian  who  was  rushing  upon  him  with  a  club.  A  second 
later  the  impetuous  officer  was  in  the  midst  of  the  mob,  giv- 
ing deadly  blows  right  and  left. 

His  men  closed  up  with  him  instantly,  Merwyn  being 
among  the  first  to  reach  his  side,  and  for  a  few  moments 
the  thud  of  clubs  on  human  skulls  was  heard  above  every 
other  sound.  Mr.  Yosburgh,  keeping  a  little  to  the  rear  on 
the  sidewalk,  watched  Merwyn,  who  held  his  attention  al- 
most equally  with  the  general  issues  of  this  decisive  battle. 
The  youth  was  dealing  blows  like  an  athlete,  and  keeping 
pace  with  the  boldest.  The  windows  of  the  buildings  on 
Broadway  were  now  crowded  by  thousands  witnessing  the 
conflict,  while  Mr.  Yosburgh,  following  closely,  heard  the 
ominous  "sing"  of  more  than  one  bullet.  The  man  who 
had  come  that  day  to  the  protection  of  his  home  and  child 
should  not  be  left  to  the  mercy  of  strangers,  should  he  fall. 
To  his  surprise  he  soon  saw  that  Merwyn  had  shifted  his 


436  AN    ORIGINAL   BELLE 

club  to  his  left  hand,  and  that  he  was  fighting  with  a  re- 
volver. He  watched  the  young  fellow  with  renewed  inter- 
est, and  observed  that  his  aim  was  as  deliberate  as  it  was 
quick,  and  that  often  when  he  fired  some  prominent  figure 
in  the  mob  dropped. 

"By  all  the  powers!  if  he  is  not  coolly  shooting  the  lead- 
ers, and  picking  out  his  man  every  time!"  ejaculated  the 
astonished  officer. 

The  police  made  a  clean  sweep  of  the  street,  and  only 
prostrate  forms  were  left  in  their  rear.  Therefore  Mr.  Yos- 
burgh  could  almost  keep  pace  with  Merwyn. 

The  rioters  soon  became  appalled  at  their  punishment. 
Like  a  dark  blue  wave,  with  bloody  clubs  forming  a  crim- 
son crest,  that  unfaltering  rank  of  men  steadily  advanced 
and  engulfed  them.  All  within  reach  went  down.  Those 
of  the  police  who  were  wounded  still  fought  on,  or,  if  dis- 
abled, the  ranks  closed  up,  and  there  was  no  cessation  in 
the  fatal  hail  of  blows.  The  rioters  in  front  would  have 
given  way,  had  not  the  thousands  in  their  rear  pressed 
them  forward  to  their  fate. 

The  judicious  Carpenter  had  provided  for  this  feature  of 
the  strife,  for  now  his  detachments  were  smiting  both  flanks 
of  the  human  monster  with  the  same  terrific  vengeance  dealt 
upon  its  head.  The  undisciplined  herd  fought  desperately 
for  a  time,  then  gave  way  to  panic  and  the  wild  effort  to 
escape.  Long  since  a  policeman  had  seized  the  national 
flag,  and  bore  it  triumphantly  with  his  left  hand  while  he 
fought  with  his  right.  The  confusion  and  uproar  were  be- 
yond description.  The  rioters  were  yelling  their  conflicting 
views  as  to  what  ought  to  be  done,  while  others  were  shout- 
ing to  those  in  their  rear  to  cease  crowding  forward.  The 
pressure  down  Broadway  now  came  from  a  desire  to  escape 
the  police.  In  brief,  a  large  section  of  the  mob  was  hemmed 
in,  and  it  surged  backward  and  forward  and  up  against  the 
stores,  while  hundreds,  availing  themselves  of  the  side- 
streets,  ran  for  their  lives.  In  a  very  short  time  what 
had  been  a  compact,  threatening  mass  was  flying  in  frag- 


THE    DECISIVE    BATTLE  437 

merits,  as  if  disrupted  by  dynamite,  but  the  pursuing  clubs 
of  Carpenter's  men  never  ceased  their  levelling  blows  while 
a  rioter's  head  was  in  reach.  Far  northward  the  direful 
tidings  of  defeat  spread  through  the  ragged  hosts  as  yet 
unharmed,  and  they  melted  away,  to  come  together  again 
and  again  during  the  lurid  days  and  nights  which  fol- 
lowed. 

The  Gettysburg  of  the  conflict  had  been  fought  and  won. 
Unspeakable  outrages  and  heavy  battles  were  yet  to  come; 
but  this  decisive  victory  gave  the  authorities  advantage 
which  they  never  lost,  and  time  to  organize  more  effective 
resistance  with  the  aid  of  the  military.  The  police  saved 
the  city.  

Broadway  looked  like  a  battlefield,  prostrate*  forms 
strewing  its  crimsoned  pavement  throughout  the  area  of 
the  conflict.  The  majority  were  left  where  they  fell,  and 
were  carried  off  by  their  friends. 

As  the  melee  was  drawing  to  a  close,  Mr.  Vosburgh  saw 
Merwyn  chasing  a  man  who  apparently  had  had  much  influ- 
ence with  his  associates,  and  had  been  among  the  last  to 
yield.  After  a  brief  pursuit  the  young  fellow  stopped  and 
fired.  The  man  struggled  on  a  few  steps,  then  fell.  Mer- 
wyn, panting,  sat  down  on  the  curbstone,  and  here  Mr. 
Vosburgh  joined  him  with  radiant  face,  exclaiming,  as  he 
wrung  the  young  man's  hand:  "I've  seen  it  all — seen  how 
you  smote  them  hip  and  thigh.  Never  has  my  blood  been 
so  stirred.  The  city  is  saved.  When  a  mob  is  thus  dealt 
with  it  soon  gives  up.  Come,  you  have  done  more  than 
your  part.  Go  with  me,  and  as  soon  as  I  have  sent  a  de- 
spatch about  this  glorious  victory,  we'll  have  supper  and 
a  little  rest." 

"Impossible,  Mr.  Vosburgh.  The  inspector  has  heard 
that  the  mob  is  sacking  the  mayor's  house,  and  we  have 
orders  to  march  there  at  once.  I'll  get  my  wind  in  a 
moment." 

liBut  you  are  not  under  obligations,  in  view  of  all  you 
have  done." 


438  AN    ORIGINAL   BELLE 

"I'm  going  to  see  this  fight  out.  If  the  force  were 
ordered  back  to  headquarters  I'd  go  with  you." 

"But  you  will  come  soon  ?" 

"Yes;  when  the  fighting  is  over  for  the  night  I'll  bring 
the  latest  news.  There,  the  men  are  falling  in  for  their 
march  up  Broadway,  and  I  must  go." 

"Well,  I  congratulate  you.  No  soldier  ever  won  greener 
laurels  in  so  short  a  time.  What's  more,  you  were  cool 
enough  to  be  one  of  the  most  effective  of  the  force.  I  saw 
you  picking  off  the  leaders.  Good-by;"  and  he  hastened 
away,  while  Merwyn  followed  Carpenter  and  the  captured 
flag  to  a  new  scene  of  battla 


"J   HAVE   SEEN    THAT    YOU   DETEST   ME"  439 


CHAPTER  XLVI 


AFTER  her  father  had  left  her  on  that  eventful  after- 
noon, Marian  felt  as  if  alone  in  a  beleaguered  fort- 
ress. The  familiar  streets  in  which  she  had  trundled 
her  hoop  as  a  child,  and  until  to-day  walked  without  fear, 
were  now  filled  with  nameless  terrors.  She  who  had  been 
so  bent  on  going  out  in  the  morniDg  would  now  as  readily 
stroll  in  a  tiger-infested  jungle  as  to  venture  from  her  door. 
When  men  like  her  father  used  such  language  and  took 
such  precautions  as  she  had  anxiously  noted,  she  knew  that 
dangers  were  manifold  and  great,  that  she  was  in  the  midst 
of  the  most  ruthless  phase  of  war. 

But  her  first  excitement  had  passed,  and  it  had  brought 
her  such  lessons  that  now  her  chief  thought  was  to  retrieve 
herself.  The  one  who  had  dwelt  in  her  mind  as  so  weak 
and  unmanly  as  to  be  a  constant  cause  of  irritation  had 
shown  himself  to  be  her  superior,  and  might  even  equal 
the  friends  with  whom  she  had  been  scornfully  contrasting 
him.  That  she  should  have  spoken  to  him  and  treated  him 
as  she  had  done  produced  boundless  self-reproach,  while  her 
egregious  error  in  estimating  his  character  was  humiliating 
m  the  last  degree. 

"Fool!  fool!"  she  said,  aloud,  "where  was  your  woman's 
intuition  ?*' 

Marian  had  much  warm  blood  in  her  veins  and  fire  in 
her  spirit,  and  on  provocation  could  become  deeply  incensed 
at  others,  as  we  have  seen;  but  so  devoid  of  petty  vanity 
was  she  that  she  could  be  almost  equally  angry  at  herself. 


440  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

She  did  not  share  her  father's  confidence  that  Merwyn  would 
relent  under  a  few  smiles,  for  she  knew  how  deeply  she  had 
wounded  and  wronged  him,  and  she  believed  that  he  pos- 
sessed a  will  as  steadfast  as  fate.  The  desire  to  t§st  her 
father's  theory,  the  hope  to  atone  for  her  wrong  judgment, 
grew  so  strong  and  absorbing  as  to  make  the  awful  fact 
of  the  riot  secondary  in  her  thoughts. 

To  get  through  the  hours  she  felt  that  she  must  keep 
incessantly  busy.  She  first  went  to  her  own  room,  packed 
valuables  and  jewels  in  a  convenient  form  to  carry  if  there 
should  be  cause  for  a  hasty  exit,  then  concealed  them. 
Going  to  her  mother's  and  father's  room,  she  acted  in  view 
of  the  same  possible  necessity,  all  the  while  carrying  on  the 
distinct  process  of  thought  in  regard  to  Merwyn,  dwelling 
on  their  past  relations,  but  above  all  questioning  his  course 
when  they  should  meet  again. 

Suddenly  she  reproached  herself  with  forgetfulness  of 
Mammy  Borden.  True,  not  much  time  had  passed;  but 
the  poor  creature,  after  what  she  had  heard,  should  be 
reassured  frequently.  She  went  to  the  attic  room,  but 
it  was  empty.  On  inspection  it  became  evident  that  the 
colored  woman  had  made  up  her  little  bundle  and  departed. 
Calling  as  she  went  down  through  the  house,  Marian  reached 
the  basement  and  saw  that  its  door  had  been  unfastened. 

41  She  has  gone  to  join  her  son,"  said  the  girl,  as  she 
hastily  rebolted  and  barred  the  door.  "Oh,  what  awful 
imprudence!  Perhaps  she  also  wished  to  relieve  us  of 
the  danger  of  her  presence.  Well,  I  am  now  alone  in 
very  truth.  I  could  now  give  Mr.  Merwyn  a  very  differ- 
ent reception.  He  and  papa  will  be  here  soon  perhaps. 
Oh,  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  make  coffee,  but  I  can't  even 
kindle  a  fire  in  the  range.  I  have  proved  myself  to-day 
a  fine  subject  for  a  soldier.  My  role  is  to  listen,  in  elegant 
costume,  to  heroic  deeds,  and  to  become  almost  hysterical 
in  the  first  hour  of  battle.  Oh,  'Missy  S'wanee,'  I  make 
a  sorry  figure  beside  you,  facing  actual  war  and  cheering 
on  your  friends  I" 


44I    HAVE    SEEN    THAT    YOU    DETEST   ME"  441 

Thus  she  passed  the  time  in  varied  and  bitter  soliloquy 
while  putting  the  kitchen  and  closets  in  order,  and  in  awk- 
ward attempts  to  remove  the  debris  of  the  last  fire  from  the 
range.  The  gas  gave  light  for  her  efforts,  for  the  closed 
shutters  darkened  the  apartment 

She  was  startled  by  a  tap  at  the  door. 

"Well?"  she  faltered,  after  a  moment's  hesitation. 

11  'Gettysburg  and  Little  Round  Top,'  "  was  the  re- 
sponse. 

"Mr.  Vosburgh  is  out,  and  left  word  that  you  should 
linger  near  till  he  returned  and  then  come  again." 

•'I  cannot  do  that.  It  would  not  be  safe  for  either  him 
or  me.     He  does  not  realize.     Can  you  be  trusted?" 

"I  am  his  daughter." 

"Say,  then,  terrible  work  uptown.  The  orphan  asylum 
sacked  and  burned.  Many  private  residences  also.  The 
mob  having  its  own  way.  A  crowd  is  coming,  and  I  must 
not  be  seen  here.  Will  be  back  to-night  if  possible;"  and 
the  unseen  communicator  of  dismal  intelligence  went  west- 
ward with  hasty  steps. 

Marian  trembled  as  she  heard  the  confused,  noisy  tread 
of  many  feet.  Hastening  to  the  second  story,  she  peeped 
through  the  blinds,  and  shuddered  as  she  saw  a  fragment  of 
the  mob  which  had  been  defeated  on  Broadway,  returning 
to  their  haunts  on  the  west  side.  Baffled  and  infuriated, 
they  made  the  street  echo  with  their  obscene  words  and 
curses.  Her  heart  almost  stood  still  as  they  approached 
her  door,  and  with  white,  compressed  lips  she  grasped  her 
revolver;  but  the  rioters  passed  on  like  a  flock  of  unclean 
birds,  and  the  street  became  quiet  again. 

She  was  now  so  anxious  about  her  father  that  she  main- 
tained her  position  of  observation.  The  coming  storm  low- 
ering in  the  west  oppressed  her  with  its  terrible  symbolism. 
Already  the  street  was  darkening,  while  from  other  parts 
of  the  city  came  strange  sounds. 

lt0h,  if  papa  should  never  come  back — if  the  mob  should 
have  its  own  way  everywhere!     To  think  of  staying  here 


442  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

alone  to-night!  Would  he  come  again  after  my  treatment 
this  morning  ?" 

She  was  aroused  from  her  deep  and  painful  revery  by  a 
knocking  on  the  basement  door.  Hastening  down  she  was 
overjoyed  to  hear  her  father's  voice,  and  when  he  entered 
she  clung  to  him,  and  kissed  him  with  such  energy  that  his 
heavy  beard  came  off,  and  his  disguising  wig  was  all  awry. 

"Oh,  papa!"  she  cried,  "I'm  so  glad  you  are  back  safe! 
A  body  of  rioters  passed  through  the  street,  and  the  thought 
of  your  falling  into  such  hands  sickened  me  with  fear;"  and 
then  she  breathlessly  told  him  of  all  that  had  occurred, 
and  of  Mammy  Borden's  disappearance. 

He  reassured  her  gently,  yet  strongly,  and  her  quick  ear 
caught  the  ring  of  truth  in  his  words. 

"I,  too,  have  much  to  tell  you,"  he  said,  "and  much  to 
do;  so  we  must  talk  as  we  work.  First  help  me  to  unpack 
and  put  away  these  provisions.  This  evening  I  must  get  a 
stout  German  woman  that  I  know  of  to  help  you  You  must 
not  be  left  alone  again,  and  I  have  another  plan  in  mind 
for  our  safety.  I  think  the  worst  is  over,  but  it  is  best  not 
to  entertain  a  sense  of  false  security  for  a  moment  in  these 
times.  The  mob  has  been  thoroughly  whipped  on  Broad- 
way. I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  after  we  have  had  a  good 
cup  of  coffee  and  a  little  supper.  Now  that  there  is  a 
respite  I  find  I'm  almost  faint  myself  from  reaction  and 
fatigue." 

"Have  you  seen — do  you  think  Mr.  Merwyn  will  be  here 
again  ?" 

"I've  seen  him,  and  so  have  others,  to  their  sorrow. 
'Coward,'  indeed!"  He  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 
"I  only  wish  I  had  a  regiment  of  such  cowards,  and  I  could 
abolish  the  mob  in  twenty-four  hours.  But  I'll  tell  you 
the  whole  story  after  supper  is  ready,  and  will  show  how 
quickly  a  soldier  can  get  up  a  meal  in  an  emergency.  You 
must  go  into  training  as  a  commissary  at  once. ' ' 

Her  father  seemed  so  genuinely  hopeful  and  elated  that 
Marian  caught  his  spirit  and  gave  every  faculty  to  the  task 


"J    HAVE   8JSMN    THAT    YOU   DETEST   ME"  443 

of  aiding  him.  Now  that  he  was  with  her,  all  fears  and 
forebodings  passed;  the  nearer  roll  of  the  thunder  was  un- 
heeded except  as  it  called  out  the  remark,  "It  will  be  too 
bad  if  Mr.  Merwyn  is  out  in  the  storm." 

Again  her  father  laughed,  as  he  said,  "All  the  thunder 
gusts  that  have  raged  over  the  city  are  nothing  to  the  storm 
which  Merwyn  has  just  faced." 

'"Oh,  papa,  you  make  me  half  wild  with  curiosity  and 
impatience.      Must  I  wait  until  the  coffee  boils?" 

"No,"  was  the  still  laughing  reply.  "What  is  more, 
you  shall  have  another  surprising  experience;  you  shall  eat 
your  supper— for  the  first  time,  I  imagine — in  the  kitchen. 
It  will  save  time  and  trouble,  and  some  of  my  agents  may 
appear  soon.  Well,  well,  all  has  turned  out,  so  far,  better 
than  I  ever  hoped.  I  have  been  able  to  keep  track  of  all 
the  most  important  movements;  I  have  seen  a  decisive 
battle,  and  have  sent  intelligence  of  everything  to  Wash- 
ington. A  certain  man  there  cannot  say  that  I  have  failed 
in  my  duty,  unexpected  and  terrible  as  has  been  the  emer- 
gency. By  morning  the  military  from  the  forts  in  the  har- 
bor will  be  on  hand.  One  or  two  more  such  victories,  and 
this  dragon  of  a  mob  will  expire." 

■'Papa,  should  not  something  be  done  to  find  and  protect 
Mammy  Borden?" 

"Yes,  as  soon  as  possible;  but  we  must  make  sure  that 
the  city's  safe,  and  our  own  lives  secure  before  looking  after 
one  poor  creature.  She  has  undoubtedly  gone  to  her  son, 
as  you  suggest.  After  such  a  scare  as  she  has  had  she  will 
keep  herself  and  him  out  of  sight.  They  are  both  shrewd 
and  intelligent  for  their  race,  and  will,  no  doubt,  either 
hide  or  escape  from  the  city  together.  Rest  assured  she 
went  out  heavily  veiled  and  disguised.  She  would  have 
said  good- by  had  she  not  feared  you  would  detain  her,  and, 
as  you  say,  her  motive  was  probably  twofold.  She  saw  how 
she  endangered  us,  and,  mother-like,  she  was  determined  to 
be  with  her  son." 

"Come,  papa,  the  coffee's  boiled,  and  supper,  such  as  it 


444  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

is,  is  on  the  table.  Hungry  as  I  am,  I  cannot  eat  till  you 
have  told  me  all." 

"All  about  the  fight  ?" 

"Yes,  and — and —  Well,  what  part  did  Mr.  Merwyn 
take  in  it?" 

"Ah,  now  I  am  to  recite  my  epic.  How  all  is  changed 
since  Blauvelt  kindled  your  eyes  and  flushed  your  cheeks 
with  the  narration  of  heroic  deeds!  Then  we  heard  of 
armies  whose  tread  shook  the  continent,  and  whose  guns 
have  echoed  around  the  world.  Men,  already  historic  for 
all  time,  were  the  leaders,  and  your  soldier  friends  were  clad 
in  a  uniform  which  distinguished  them  as  the  nation's  de- 
fenders. My  humble  hero  had  merely  an  ill-fitting  police- 
man's coat  buttoned  over  his  soiled,  ragged  blouse.  Truly 
it  is  fit  that  I  should  recite  his  deeds  in  a  kitchen  and  not 
in  a  library.  When  was  the  heroic  policeman  sung  in 
homeric  verse  before?     When — " 

"Oh,  papa,  papa!  don't  tantalize  me.  You  cannot  be- 
little this  struggle  or  its  consequences.  Our  enemies  are  at 
our  very  doors,  and  they  are  not  soldiers.  I  would  rather 
face  scalping  Indians  than  the  wretches  that  I  saw  an  hour 
since.  If  Merwyn  will  do  a  man's  part  to  quell  this  mob 
I  shall  feel  honored  by  his  friendship.  But  he  never  will 
forgive  me,  never,  never." 

"We'll  see  about  that,"  Was  Mr.  Vosburgh's  smiling 
reply.  Then  his  face  became  grave,  and  he  said:  "You 
are  right,  Marian.  The  ruffians  who  filled  the  streets  to- 
day, and  who  even  now  are  plundering  and  burning  in 
different  parts  of  the  city,  are  not  soldiers.  They  are  as 
brutal  as  they  are  unscrupulous  and  merciless.  I  can  only 
tell  you  what  has  occurred  in  brief  outline,  for  the  moment 
I  am  a  little  rested  and  have  satisfied  hunger  I  must  be 
at  work." 

He  then  rapidly  narrated  how  Merwyn  had  been  brought 
in  at  police  headquarters  with  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  riot 
whom  he  had  beguiled  and  helped  to  capture.  A  graphic 
account  of  the  battle  followed,  closing  with  the  fact  that  he 


(1    HAVE   SEEN    THAT    YOU    DETEST   ME"  445 

had  left  the  "coward"  marching  up  Broadway  to  engage  in 
another  fight. 

The  girl  listened  with  pale  cheeks  and  drooping  head. 

"He  will  never  forgive  me,"  she  murmured;  "I've 
wronged  him  too  deeply."' 

"Be  ready  to  give  him  a  generous  cup  of  coffee  and  a 
good  supper,"  her  father  replied.  '"Men  are  animals,  even 
when  heroes,  and  Merwyn  will  be  in  a  condition  to  bless 
the  hand  that  feeds  him  to-night.  Now  I  must  carry  out 
my  plans  with  despatch.  Oh,  there  is  the  rain.  Good. 
Torrents,  thunder,  and  lightning  will  keep  away  more 
dangerous  elements.  Although  I  have  but  a  slight  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Erkmanns,  whose  yard  abuts  upon 
ours,  I  hope,  before  the  evening  is  over,  to  have  a  door 
cut  in  the  fence  between  us,  and  a  wire  stretched  from  our 
rear  windows  to  theirs.  It  will  be  for  our  mutual  safetv. 
If  attacked  we  can  escape  through  their  house  or  they 
through  ours.  I'll  put  on  my  rubber  suit  and  and  shall  not 
be  gone  long  now  at  any  one  time.  You  can  admit  Merwyn 
or  any  of  my  agents  who  give  the  password.  Keep  plenty 
of  coffee  and  your  own  courage  at  boiling-point.  \rou  will 
next  hear  from  me  at  our  back  door. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  she  again  admitted  her  father, 
who  said:  '"It's  all  arranged.  I  have  removed  a  couple  of 
boards  so  that  they  can  be  replaced  by  any  one  who  passes 
through  the  opening.  I  have  some  fine  wire  which  I  will 
now  stretch  from  my  library  to  Mr.  Erkmann's  sleeping 
apartment. " 

When  he  again  entered  the  house  two  of  his  agents 
whom  Marian  had  admitted  were  present,  dripping  wet, 
hungry,  and  weary.  They  had  come  under  cover  of  the 
storm  and  darkness.  While  they  gave  their  reports  Mr. 
Yosburgh  made  them  take  a  hearty  supper,  and  Marian 
waited  on  them  with  a  grace  that  doubled  their  incentive 
to  serve  their  chief.  But  more  than  once  she  sighed,  "Mer- 
wyn does  not  come." 

Then  the  thought  flashed  upon  her:    "Perhaps  he  can- 


446  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

not  come.     He  may  be  battered  and  dying  in  the  muddy 
streets." 

The  possibility  of  this  made  her  so  ill  and  faint  that  she 
hastily  left  the  apartment  and  went  up  to  the  darkened 
drawing-room,  where  her  father  found  her  a  moment  later 
seeking  to  stifle  her  sobs. 

"Why,  Marian,  darling,  you  who  have  kept  up  so 
bravely  are  not  going  to  give  way  now." 

lTrn  not  afraid  for  myself,"  she  faltered,  "but  Mr.  Mer- 
wyn  does  not  come.  You  said  he  was  marching  to  another 
fight.  He  may  be  wounded;  he  may  be" —  her  voice  fell 
to  a  whisper — "he  may  be  dead." 

klNo,  Marian,"  replied  her  father,  confidently,  "that 
young  fellow  has  a  future.  He  is  one  of  those  rare  spirits 
which  a  period  like  this  develops,  and  he'll  take  no  com- 
mon part  in  it.  He  has  probably  gone  to  see  if  his  own 
home  is  safe.  Now  trust  God  and  be  a  soldier,  as  you 
promised." 

"I  couldn't  bear  to  have  anything  happen  to  him  and  I 
have  no  chance  to  make  amends,  to  show  I  am  not  so  weak 
and  silly  as  I  appeared  this  morning. ' ' 

"Then  let  him  find  you  strong  and  self-controlled  when 
he  appears.  Come  down  now,  for  I  must  question  my  agents 
while  they  are  yet  at  supper;  then  I  must  go  out,  and  I'll 
leave  them  for  your  protection  till  1  return." 

He  put  his  arm  about  her,  and  led  her  to  the  stairway, 
meanwhile  thinking,  "A  spell  is  working  now  which  she 
soon  will  have  to  recognize." 

By  the  time  his  agents  had  finished  their  meal,  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh  had  completed  his  examination  of  them  and  made 
his  notes.  He  then  placed  a  box  of  cigars  on  the  table,  in- 
structed them  about  admitting  Merwyn  should  he  come, 
and  with  his  daughter  went  up  to  the  library,  where  he 
wrote  another  long  despatch. 

"After  sending  this,"  he  said,  "and  getting  the  woman 
I  spoke  of,  I  will  not  leave  you  again  to-night,  unless  there 
should  be  very  urgent  necessity.     You  can  sit  in  the  dark* 


"7    HAVE   SEEN    THAT    YOU    DETEST    ME>>  447 

ened   front  room,   and   watch  till  either  I  or  Merwyn  re- 

turDs. " 

This  she  did  and  listened  breathlessly. 
The  rain  continued  to  pour  in  torrents,  and  the  lightning 
was  still  so  vivid  as  to  blind  her  eyes  at  times,  while  the 
crashes  of  thunder  often  drowned  the  roar  of  the  unquiet 
city;  but  undaunted,  tearless,  motionless,  she  watched  the 
deserted  street  and  listened  for  the  footfall  of  one  whom  she 
had  long  despised,  as  she  had  assured  herself. 

An  hour  passed.  The  storm  was  dying  away,  and  still 
he  did  not  come.  ''Alas!''  she  sighed,  "he  is  wounded;  if 
not  by  the  rabble,  certainly  by  me.  I  know  now  what  it  has 
cost  him  to  be  thought  a  coward  for  months,  and  must  ad- 
mit that  I  don't  understand  him  at  all.  How  vividly  come 
back  the  words  he  spoke  last  December,  'What  is  the  storm, 
and  what  the  danger,  to  that  which  lam  facing?'  What 
was  he  facing?  What  secret  and  terrible  burden  has  he 
carried  patiently  through  all  my  coldness  and  scorn  ?  Oh, 
why  was  I  such  an  idiot  as  to  offend  him  mortally  just  as 
he  was  about  to  retrieve  himself  and  render  papa  valu- 
able assistance — worse  still,  when  he  came  to  my  pro- 
tection!" 

The  gloomy  musings  were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of 
a  carriage  driven  rapidly  uptown  in  a  neighboring  street. 
It  stopped  at  the  corner  to  the  east,  and  a  man  alighted 
and  came  toward  the  Vosburgh  residence.  A  moment  later 
Marian  whispered,  excitedly,  "It's  Mr.  Merwyn." 

He  approached  slowly  and  she  thought  warily,  and  be- 
gan mounting  the  steps. 

"Is  it  Mr.  Merwyn?"  she  called. 

"Yes." 

llI  will  admit  you  at  the  basement  door;"  and  she  hast- 
ened down.  She  meant  to  give  her  hand,  to  speak  in  warm 
eulogy  of  his  action,  but  his  pale  face  and  cold  glance  as  he 
entered  chilled  her.  She  felt  tongue-tied  in  the  presence 
of  the  strangers  who  sat  near  the  table  smoking. 

Merwyn  started  slightly  on  seeing  them,  and  then  she 


448  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

explained,  hastily,  "These  gentlemen  are  assisting  my  father 
in  a  way  you  understand." 

He  bowed  to  them,  then  sank  into  a  chair,  as  if  too  weary 
to  stand. 

"Mr.  Merwyn,"  she  began,  eagerly,  "let  me  make  you 
some  fresh  coffee.  That  on  the  range  is  warm,  but  it  has 
stood  some  little  time. ' ' 

"Please  do  not  take  the  slightest  trouble,"  he  said,  de- 
cidedly. "That  now  ready  will  answer.  Indeed,  I  would 
prefer  it  to  waiting.  I  regret  exceedingly  that  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh  is  not  at  home,  for  I  am  too  exhausted  to  wait  for 
him.  Can  I  not  help  myself?"  and  he  rose  and  approached 
the  range. 

".Not  with  my  permission,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile, 
but  he  did  not  observe  it.  She  stole  shy  glances  at  him  as 
she  prepared  the  coffee.  Truly,  as  he  sat,  drooping  in  his 
chair,  wet,  ragged,  and  begrimed,  he  presented  anything 
but  the  aspect  of  a  hero.  Yet  as  such  he  appeared  in  her 
eyes  beyond  all  other  men  whom  she  had  ever  seen. 

She  said,  gently:  "Let  me  put  the  coffee  on  the  table, 
and  get  you  some  supper.     You  must  need  it  sorely." 

"No,  I  thank  you.  I  could  not  eat  anything  to-night;" 
and  he  rose  and  took  the  coffee  from  her  hand,  and  drank  it 
eagerly.    He  then  said,  "I  will  thank  you  for  a  little  more." 

With  sorrow  she  noted  that  he  did  not  meet  her  eyes  or 
relax  his  distant  manner. 

"I  wish  you  could  wait  until  papa  returns,"  she  said, 
almost  entreatingly,  as  she  handed  him  a  second  cup. 

"I  hope  Mr.  Vosburgh  will  pardon  my  seeming  lack  of 
courtesy,  and  that  you  will  also,  gentlemen.  It  has  been 
a  rather  long,  hard  day,  and  I  find  that  I  have  nearly 
reached  the  limit  of  my  powers."  With  a  short,  grim 
laugh,  he  added:  "I  certainly  am  not  fit  to  remain  in  the 
presence  of  a  lady.  I  suppose,  Miss  Vosburgh,  I  may  re- 
port what  little  I  have  to  say  in  the  presence  of  these  gen- 
tlemen ?  I  would  write  it  out  if  1  could,  but  I  cannot 
to-night." 


"2    HAVE   SEEN    THAT    YOU    DETEST   ME"  449 

"I  certainly  think  you  may  speak  freely  before  these 
gentlemen,"  was  her  reply. 

"Mr.  Vosburgh  trusts  us  implicitly,  and  I  think  we  are 
deserving  of  it,"  said  one  of  the  agents. 

•'Why  need  you  go  out  again  when  you  are  so  weary  ?" 
Marian  asked.  "I  am  expecting  papa  every  moment, "and 
I  know  he  would  like  you  to  stay  with  him. " 

"That  would  be  impossible.     Besides.  I  have  some  curi- 
osity to  learn  whether  I  have  a  home  left.     My  report  in 
brief  amounts  to  little  more  than  this.     Soon  after  our  re- 
turn from   the    mayor's  residence  on   Broadway   we   were 
ordered  down  to  Printing- House  Square.     Intelligence  that 
an    immense    mob  was    attacking   the   Tribune    Office    had 
been  received.     Our  hasty  march  thither,  and  the  free  use 
of  the  club  on   our  arrival,   must  account  for  my  present 
plight.     You  see,  gentlemen,  that  I  am  not  a  veteran,  only 
a  raw  recruit.     In  a  day  or  two  I  shall  be  more  seasoned  to 
the  work.      You  may  say  to  your  father,  Miss  Vosburgh, 
that  the  mob  had  been  broken  before  we  arrived.      We  met 
them  on  their  retreat  across  City  Hall  Park,  and  nothing 
was  left  for  us   but  the  heavy,   stupid  work  of  knocking 
a  good   many  of   the    poor    wretches  on    the   head.     Such 
fighting  makes  me   sick;    yet  it  is  imperative,    no  doubt. 
Inspector  Carpenter  is  at  City  Hall  with  a  large  force,  and 
the  rioters  are  thoroughly  dispersed.     I  think  the  lower  part 
of  the  city  will  be  quiet  for  the  night." 

•'You  were  wise,   Mr.    Merwyn,   to    ride  uptown,"  said 
Marian,  gravely.     "I  know  well  that  you  have  been  taxed 
to-day  beyond  the  strength  of  any  veteran." 
4kHow  did  you  know  that  I  rode  uptown?" 
"I  was    watching    for    papa,   and   saw   you    leave  your 
carriage." 

"I  could  never  have  reached  home  had  I  not  secured 
a  cab,  and  that  reminds  me  that  it  is  waiting  around  the 
corner;  at  least,  the  driver  promised  to  wait.  I  shall  now 
say  good-night.  Oh,  by  the  way,  in  the  press  of  other  things 
1  forgot  to  say  that  Mrs.  Grhegan  reached  her  husband,  and 


450  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

that  her  good  nursing,  with  surgical  help,  will  probably 
save  his  life. " 

Bowing  to  the  agents,  who  had  been  listening  and  watch- 
ing him  with  great  curiosity,  he  turned  to  the  door. 

Marian  opened  it  for  him,  and,  stepping  out  into  the 
dusky  area,  said,  "I  see  that  you  do  not  forgive  me." 

"And  I  have  seen,  to-day,  Miss  Vosburgh,  that  you 
detest  me.  You  showed  the  truth  plainly  when  off  your 
guard.  Your  own  pride  and  sense  of  justice  may  lead  you 
to  seek  to  make  amends  for  an  error  in  your  estimate  of  me. 
Having  convinced  you  that  I  am  not  a  coward,  I  have  ac- 
complished all  that  I  can  hope  for,  and  I'm  in  no  mood  for 
hollow  courtesies.  I  shall  do  everything  in  my  power  to 
aid  your  father  until  the  trouble  is  over  or  I  am  disabled, 
and  then  will  annoy  you  no  more.  Good-night;"  and  he 
strode  away,  with  a  firm,  rapid  step,  proving  that  his  pride 
for  a  moment  had  mastered  his  almost  mortal  weariness. 

Marian  returned  to  her  post  in  the  second  story  to  watch 
for  her  father,  her  ears  tingling,  and  every  faculty  confused, 
while  excited,  by  the  words  Merwyn  had  spoken.  He  had 
revealed  his  attitude  toward  her  clearly,  and,  as  she  grew 
calmer,  she  saw  it  was  not  a  mere  question  of  the  offence 
she  had  given  him  that  morning  which  she  had  to  face,  but 
rather  a  deep-rooted  conviction  that  he  was  personally  de- 
tested. 

"If  he  knew  how  far  this  is  from  the  truth  now!"  she 
thought,  with  a  smile. 

Then  the  query  presented  itself:  "How  far  is  it  from  the 
truth?  Why  am  I  thinking  more  of  him  than  of  the  not, 
our  danger,  yes,  even  my  father?" 

In  the  light  of  that  lurid  day  much  had  been  revealed  to 
her,  and  before  her  revery  ceased  she  understood  her  long 
months  of  irritation  and  anger  at  Merwyn's  course;  she  saw 
why  she  had  not  dismissed  him  from  her  thoughts  with  con- 
temptuous indifference  and  why  she  had  ingeniously  wrought 
the  Maclan  theory  of  constitutional  timidity.  When  had 
she  given  so  much  thought  to  a  man  whom  she  had  dis- 


"2   HAVE   SEEN    THAT    YOU    DETEST   ME"  451 

liked  ?  Even  in  her  disapproval  of  him,  even  when  her 
soldier  friends  appeared  at  their  best  and  she  was  contrast- 
ing him  with  them  to  his  fatal  disadvantage  as  she  believed, 
thoughts  of  him  would  pursue  her  constantly.  Now  that  he 
had  shown  himself  the  peer  of  each  and  all  in  manhood  and 
courage,  it  seemed  as  if  feelings,  long  held  in  check,  were 
released  and  were  sweeping  irresistibly  toward  one  conclu- 
sion. Merwyn  was  more  to  her  than  any  other  man  in  the 
world.  He  had  fulfilled  her  ideal,  and  was  all  the  more 
attractive  because  he  was  capable  of  such  deep,  strong  pas- 
sion,  and  yet  could  be  so  resolute  and  cool. 

"But  how  can  I  ever  undeceive  him?"  was  her  most 
perplexing  thought.  "I  cannot  make  advances.  Well, 
well,   the  future  must  disentangle  itself." 

Now  that  she  was  beginning  to  understand  herself, 
every  instinct  of  her  being  led  toward  reserve.  In  a  mis- 
understanding with  her  soldier  friends  she  could  easily  and 
frankly  effect  a  reconciliation,  but  she  must  be  dumb  with 
Merwyn,  and  distant  in  manner,  to  the  degree  that  she  was 
self-conscious. 

Suddenly  she  became  aware  that  it  was  growing  late, 
and  that  her  father  had  not  returned,  and  for  the  next  hour 
she  suffered  terribly  from  anxiety,  as  did  many  women  in 
those  days  of  strange  vicissitudes. 

At  last,  a  little  before  midnight,  he  came,  looking  stern 
and  anxious.  "I  will  soon  explain,"  he  said  to  her.  "Take 
this  woman  to  her  room. "  Then,  to  his  aroused  and  sleepy 
agents:  "You  have  had  some  rest  and  respite.  Go  to  the 
nearest  hotel  and  take  a  little  more,  but  be  up  with  the  dawn 
and  do  your  best,  for  to-morrow  promises  to  be  worse  than 

to-day." 

With  a  few  further  instructions  he  dismissed  them. 

Upon  reaching  the  library  he  said  to  his  daughter:  "I've 
been  at  a  conference  in  which  the  police,  military,  and  state 
authorities  took  part,  and  things  look  gloomy.  I  have  also 
sent  further  despatches.  My  dear  child,  I  wish  you  were  with 
your  mother,  but  I'm  too  weary  to  think  any  more  to-night." 


452  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Papa,  the  question  of  my  remaining  has  been  settled. 
Now  rest.     Mr.  Merwyn  came  and  brought  good  news." 

"Yes,  I  know  all  about  it.     Why  did  he  not  stay  ?" 

"He  naturally  wished  to  return  and  look  after  his  own 
home." 

"True  enough.  I  hope  he  found  it  unharmed.  He  has 
proved  himself  a  grand,  brave  fellow  to-day,  and  I  only 
wish  it  was  my  privilege  to  fight  at  his  side.  It  would  be 
far  easier  than  to  carry  my  burden. ' ' 

"Not  another  perplexing  thought  to-night,  papa." 

"Well,  Marian,  I  must  have  some  sleep,  to  be  equal  to 
to-morrow.  You  must  obey  orders  and  sleep  also.  I  shall 
not  take  off  my  clothes,  and  shall  be  ready  for  any  emer- 
gency; and  do  you  also  sleep  in  your  wrapper." 

He  kissed  her  fondly,  but  with  heavy  eyes. 


4   FAIR    FRIEND    AND    FOUL    FOES  453 


CHAPTER    XLVIII 

A   FAIR    FRIEND   AND   FOUL   FOES 

THE  reader  has  already  discovered  that  I  have  not  at- 
tempted anything  approaching  a  detailed  history  of 
the  dreadful  days  of  the  riot.  I  merely  hope  to  give 
a  somewhat  correct  impression  of  the  hopes,  fears,  and  pas- 
sions which  swayed  men's  minds  and  controlled  or  directed 
their  action.  Many  of  the  scenes  are  too  horrible  to  be  de- 
scribed, and  much  else  relating  to  the  deeds  and  policy  of 
recognized  leaders  belongs  to  the  sober  page  of  history. 
The  city  was  in  awful  peril,  and  its  destruction  would  have 
crippled  the  general  government  beyond  all  calculation. 
Unchecked  lawlessness  in  New  York  would  soon  have 
spread  to  other  centres.  That  cool,  impartial  historian, 
the  Comte  de  Paris,  recognized  the  danger  in  his  words: 
"Turbulent  leaders  were  present  in  the  large  cities  of  the 
East,  which  contained  all  the  elements  for  a  terrible  insur- 
rection. This  insurrection  was  expected  to  break  out  in 
New  York,  despite  Lee's  defeat:  one  may  judge  what  it 
might  have  been  had  Lee   achieved  a  victory." 

With  the  best  intentions  the  administration  had  com- 
mitted many  grave  errors— none  more  so,  perhaps,  than 
that  of  ordering  the  draft  to  be  inaugurated  at  a  time 
when  the  city   was  stripped  of  its  militia. 

Now,  however,  it  only  remained  for  the  police  and  a 
few  hundreds  of  the  military  to  cope  with  the  result  of 
that  error — a  reckless  mob  of  unnumbered  thousands,  gov- 
erned by  the  instinct  to  plunder  and  destroy. 

When  the  sun  dawned  in  unclouded  splendor  on  the 
morning  oi  the  14th  of  July,  a  superficial  observer,  passing 


451  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

through  the  greater  part  of  the  city,  would  not  have  dreamed 
that  it  could  become  a  battleground,  a  scene  of  unnumbered 
and  untold  outrages,  during  the  day.  It  was  hard  for  mul- 
titudes of  citizens,  acquainted  with  what  had  already  taken 
place,  to  believe  in  the  continuance  of  such  lawlessness.  In 
large  districts  there  was  an  effort  to  carry  on  business  as 
usual.  In  the  early  hours  vehicles  of  every  kind  rattled 
over  the  stony  pavement,  and  when  at  last  Merwyn  awoke, 
the  sounds  that  came  through  his  open  windows  were  so 
natural  that  the  events  of  the  preceding  day  seemed  but  a 
distorted  dream.  The  stern  realities  of  the  past  and  the 
future  soon  confronted  him,  however,  and  he  rang  and  or- 
dered breakfast  at  once. 

Hastily  disguising  himself  as  he  had  done  before,  he 
again  summoned  his  faithful  servant.  This  man's  vigilance 
had  enabled  him  to  admit  his  master  instantly  the  night  be- 
fore. Bej^ond  the  assurance  that  all  was  well  and  safe  Mer- 
wyn had  not  then  listened  to  a  word,  yielding  to  the  impera- 
tive craving  for  sleep  and  rest.  These,  with  youth  and  the 
vigor  of  a  strong,  unvitiated  constitution,  had  restored  him 
wonderfully,  and  he  was  eager  to  enter  on  the  perils  and 
duties  of  the  new  day.  His  valet  and  man-of-all-work  told 
him  that  he  had  been  at  pains  to  give  the  impression  that 
the  family  was  away  and  the  house  partially  dismantled. 

"It  wouldn't  pay  ye,"  he  had  said  to  a  band  of  plun- 
derers, "to  bother  with  the  loikes  of  this  house  when 
there's  plenty  all  furnished." 

With  injunctions  to  maintain  his  vigilance  and  not  to 
be  surprised  if  Merwyn's  absence  was  prolonged,  the  young 
man  hastened  away,  paying  no  heed  to  entreaties  to  remain 
and  avoid  risks. 

It  was  still  early,  but  the  uneasy  city  was  waking,  and 
the  streets  were  filling  with  all  descriptions  of  people. 
Thousands  were  escaping  to  the  country;  thousands  more 
were  standing  in  their  doors  or  moving  about,  seeking  to 
satisfy  their  curiosity;  while  in  the  disaffected  districts  on 
the  east  and  the  west  side  the  hosts  of  the  mob  were  swarm- 


A    FAIR    FRIEND    AND    FOUL   FOES  455 

ing  forth  for  the  renewal  of  the  conflict,  now  inspired  chiefly 
by  the  hope  of  plunder.  Disquiet,  anxiety,  fear,  anger,  and 
recklessness  characterized  different  faces,  according  to  the 
nature  of  their  possessors;  but  as  a  rule  even  the  most  des- 
perate of  the  rioters  were  singularly  quiet  except  when  un- 
der the  dominion  of  some  immediate  and  exciting  influence. 

In  order  to  save  time,  Merwyn  had  again  hired  a  hack, 
and,  seated  with  the  driver,  he  proceeded  rapidly,  first  to- 
ward the  East  River,  and  then,  on  another  street,  toward  the 
Hudson.  His  eyes,  already  experienced,  saw  on  every  side 
the  promise  of  another  bloody  day.  He  was  stopped  and 
threatened  several  times,  for  the  rioters  were  growing  sus- 
picious, fully  aware  that  detectives  were  among  them,  but 
he  always  succeeded  in  giving  some  plausible  excuse.  At 
last,  returning  from  the  west  side,  the  driver  refused  to 
carry  him  any  longer,  and  gave  evidence  of  sympathy  with 
the  mob. 

Merwyn  quietly  showed  him  the  butt  of  a  revolver,  and 
said,  ll  You  will  drive  till  I  dismiss  you." 

The  man  yielded  sullenly,  and  Merwyn  alighted  near 
Mr.  Vosburgh's  residence,  saying  to  his  jehu,  "Your  course 
lies  there,"  pointing  east — and  he  rapidly  turned  a  corner. 

As  Merwyn  had  surmised,  the  man  wheeled  his  horses 
with  the  purpose  of  following  and  learning  his  destination. 
Observing  this  eager  quest  he  sprang  out  upon  him  from  a 
doorway  and  said,  ''If  you  try  that  again  111  shoot  you  as  I 
would  a  dog."     The  fellow  now  took  counsel  of  discretion. 

Going  round  the  block  to  make  sure  he  was  not  observed, 
Merwyn  reached  the  residence  of  Mr.  Yosburgh  just  as  that 
gentleman  was  rising  from  his  breakfast,  and  received  a  cor- 
dial welcome. 

44 Why,  Merwyn,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  look  as  fresh  as  a 
June  daisy  this  morning. ' ' 

The  young  fellow  had  merely  bowed  to  Marian,  and  now 
said,  "I  cannot  wonder  at  your  surprise,  remembering  the 
condition  in  which  I  presented  myself  last  night." 

"Condition  ?     I  do  not  understand. " 


456  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Marian  laughed,  as  she  said:  "Papa  came  in  about  mid- 
night in  scarcely  better  plight.  In  brief,  you  were  both  ex- 
hausted, and  with  good  reason. ' ' 

"But  you  did  not  tell  me,  Marian — " 

"No,"  she  interrupted;  "nothing  but  a  life-and-death 
emergency  should  have  made  me  tell  you  anything  last 
night. ' ' 

"Why,  our  little  girl  is  becoming  a  soldier  and  a  strate- 
gist. I  think  you  had  better  make  your  report  over  again, 
Mr.  Merwyn;"  and  he  drew  out  a  fuller  account  of  events 
than  had  been  given  the  evening  before,  also  the  result  of 
the  young  man's  morning  observations. 

Marian  made  no  effort  to  secure  attention  beyond  offer- 
ing Merwyn  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"I  have  breakfasted,"  he  said,  coldly. 

"Take  it,  Merwyn,  take  it,"  cried  Mr.  V^osburgh.  "Next 
to  courage,  nothing  keeps  up  a  soldier  better  than  coffee. 
According  to  your  own  view  we  have  another  hard  day  be- 
fore us. "     , 

Merwyn  complied,  and  bowed  his  thanks. 

"Now  for  plans,"  resumed  Mr.  Vosburgh.  "Are  you 
going  to  police  headquarters  again  ?' ' 

"Direct  from  here." 

"I  shall  be  there  occasionally,  and  if  you  learn  anything 
important,  leave  me  a  note.  If  I  am  not  there  and  you  can 
get  away,  come  here.  Of  course  I  only  ask  this  as  of  a 
friend  and  loyal  man.  You  can  see  how  vitally  important 
it  is  that  the  authorities  at  Washington  should  be  informed. 
They  can  put  forth  vast  powers,  and  will  do  so  as  the  neces- 
sity is  impressed  upon  them.  If  we  can  only  hold  our  own 
for  a  day  or  two  the  city  will  be  full  of  troops.  Therefore 
remember  that  in  aiding  me  you  are  helping  the  cause  even 
more  than  by  fighting  with  the  best  and  bravest,  as  you  did 
yesterday.  Yon  recognize  this  fact,  do  you  not  ?  I  am  not 
laying  any  constraint  on  you  contrary  to  your  sense  of  duty 
and  inclination." 

"No,  sir,  you  are  not.      I  should  be  dull  indeed  did  I 


A    FAIR    FRIEND    AND    FOUL    FOES  457 

not  perceive  that  you  are  burdened  with  the  gravest  respon- 
sibilities. What  is  more,  your  knowledge  guides,  in  a  meas- 
ure, the  strong  national  hand,  and  I  now  believe  we  shall 
need  its  aid." 

"That's  it,  that's  the  point.  Therefore  you  can  see  why 
I  am  eager  to  secure  the  assistance  of  one  who  has  the  brains 
to  appreciate  the  fact  so  quickly  and  fully.  Moreover,  you 
are  cool,  and  seem  to  understand  the  nature  of  this  outbreak 
as  if  you  had  made  a  study  of  the  mobs. ' ' 

"I  have,  and  I  have  been  preparing  for  this  one,  for  I 
knew  that  it  would  soon  give  me  a  chance  to  prove  that 
I  was  not  a  coward." 

Marian's  cheeks  crimsoned. 

i4No  more  of  that,  if  you  please,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh, 
gravely.  ' ;  While  it  is  natural  that  you  should  feel  strongly, 
you  must  remember  that  both  I  and  my  daughter  have  asked 
your  pardon,  and  that  you  yourself  admitted  that  we  had 
cause  for  misjudging  you.  We  have  been  prompt  to  make 
amends,  and  I  followed  you  through  yesterday's  fight  at 
some  risk  to  see  that  you  did  not  fall  into  the  hands  of 
strangers,  if  wounded.  I  could  have  learned  all  about  the 
fight  at  a  safer  distance.  You  are  now  showing  the  best 
qualities  of  a  soldier.  Add  to  them  a  soldier's  full  and 
generous  forgiveness  when  a  wrong  is  atoned  for— an  unin- 
tentional wrong  at  that.  We  trust  you  implicitly  as  a 
man  of  honor,  but  we  also  wish  to  work  with  you  as  a 
friend. " 

Mr.  Vosburgh  spoke  with  dignity,  and  the  young  fel- 
low s  face  flushed  under  the  reproof  in  his  tone. 

"I  suppose  I  have  become  morbid  on  the  subject,"  he 
said,  with  some  embarrassment.  llI  now  ask  your  pardon, 
and  admit  that  the  expression  was  in  bad  taste,  to  say  the 
least." 

"Yes,  it  was,  in  view  of  the  evident  fact  that  we  now 
esteem  and  honor  you  as  a  brave  man.  I  would  not  give 
you  my  hand  in  friendship  and  trust  concerning  matters 
vital  to  me  were  this  not  so." 

Roe— VI— 20 


458  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Merwyn  took  the  proffered  hand  with  a  deep  flush  of 
pleasure. 

14 Having  learned  the  bitterness  of  being  misjudged," 
said  Marian,  quietly,  "Mr.  Merwyn  should  be  careful  how 
he  misjudges  others." 

"That's  a  close  shot,  Merwyn,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh, 
laughing. 

Their  guest  started  and  bent  a  keen  glance  on  the  girl's 
averted  face,  and  then  said,  earnestly:  "Miss  Vosburgh, 
your  father  has  spoken  frankly  to  me  and  I  believe  him. 
Your  words,  also,  are  significant  if  they  mean  anything 
whatever.  I  know  well  what  is  before  me  to-day— the 
chances  of  my  never  seeing  you  again.  I  can  only  mis- 
judge you  in  one  respect.  Perhaps  I  can  best  make  every- 
thing clear  to  your  father  as  well  as  yourself  by  a  single 
question.  If  I  do  my  duty  through  these  troubles,  Mr. 
Vosburgh  being  the  judge,  can  you  give  me  some  place 
among  those  friends  who  have  already,  and  justly,  won 
your  esteem  ?  I  know  it  will  require  time.  I  have  given 
you  far  more  cause  for  offence  than  you  have  given  me, 
but  I  would  be  glad  to  fight  to-day  with  the  inspiration 
of  hope  rather  than  that  of  recklessness." 

Her  lip  trembled  as  she  faltered:  "You  would  see  that 
you  have  such  a  place  already  were  you  not  equally  prone 
to  misjudge.  Do  you  think  me  capable  of  cherishing  a  petty 
spite  after  you  had  proved  yourself  the  peer  of  my  other 
friends?" 

"That  I  have  not  done,  and  I  fear  I  never  can.  You 
have  seen  that  I  have  been  under  a  strong  restraint  which 
is  not  removed  and  which  I  cannot  explain.  To  wear, 
temporarily,  a  policeman's  uniform  is  probably  the  best 
I  can  hope  for." 

klI  was  thinking  of  men,  Mr.  Merwyn,  not  uniforms. 
I  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  restraint  to  which 
you  refer.  If  my  father  trusts  you,  I  can.  Do  not  think 
of  me  so  meanly  as  to  believe  I  cannot  give  honest  friend- 
ship to  the  man  who  is  risking  his  life  to  aid  my  father. 


A    FAIR    FRIEND    AND    FOUL    FOES  459 

Last  evening  you  said  I  had  been  off  my  guard.  I  must 
and  will  say,  in  self-defence,  that  if  you  judge  me  by  that 
hour  of  weakness  and  folly  you  misjudge  me. " 

Then  we  can  be  friends, ' '  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand, 
his  face  full  of  the  sunshine  of  gladness. 

"Why  not?"  she  replied,  laughing,  and  taking  his  hand 
—"that  is,  on  condition  that  there  is  no  more  recklessness." 

Mr.  Vosburgh  rose  and  said,  with  a  smile:  "Now  that 
there  is  complete  amity  in  the  camp  we  will  move  on  the 
enemy.  I  shall  go  with  you,  Merwyn,  to  police  headquar- 
ters;" and  he  hastily  began  his  preparation. 

Left  alone  with  Marian  a  moment,  Merwyn  said,  "You 
cannot  know  how  your  words  have  changed  everything 
for  me." 

"I  fear  the  spirit  of  the  rioters  is  unchanged,  and  that 
you  are  about  to  incur  fearful  risks." 

"I  shall  meet  them  cheerfully,  for  I  have  been  under  a 
thick  cloud  too  long  not  to  exult  in  a  little  light  at  last." 

"Eeady  ?"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh. 

Again  Merwyn  took  her  hand  and  looked  at  her  earnestly 
as  he  said,  "Good-by,  Heaven  bless  you,  whatever  happens 
to  me;"  and  he  wondered  at  the  tears  that  came  into  her 
eyes. 

Making  their  way  through  streets  which  were  now  be- 
coming  thronged,  Mr.  Vosburgh  and  Merwyn  reached  police 
headquarters  without  detention.  They  found  matters  there 
vastly  changed  for  the  better:  the  whole  police  force  well  in 
hand;  and  General  Harvey  Brown,  a  most  capable  officer, 
in  command  of  several  hundred  soldiers.  Moreover,  citi- 
zens,  in  response  to  a  call  from  the  mayor,  were  being  en- 
rolled in  large  numbers  as  special  policemen.  Merwyn  was 
welcomed  by  his  old  companions  under  the  command  of  In- 
spector Carpenter,  and  provided  with  a  badge  which  would 
indicate  that  he  now  belonged  to  the  police  force. 

Telegrams  were  pouring  in  announcing  trouble  in  differ- 
ent sections.  Troops  were  drawn  up  in  line  on  Mulberry 
Street,   ready  for  instant  action,  and  were  harangued  by 


AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

their  officers  in  earnest  words  which  were  heeded  and 
obeyed,  for  the  soldiers  vied  with  the  police  in  courage 
and  discipline. 

Soon  after  his  arrival  Merwyn  found  himself  marching 
with  a  force  of  policemen  two  hundred  and  fifty  strong,  led 
by  Carpenter  and.  followed  by  a  company  of  the  military. 
The  most  threatening  gatherings  were  reported  to  be  in 
Second  and  Third  Avenues. 

The  former  thoroughfare,  when  entered,  was  seen  to  be 
filled  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the  number  of  the  throng 
being  estimated  at  not  less  than  ten  thousand.  At  first  this 
host  was  comparatively  quiet,  apparently  having  no  definite 
purpose  or  recognized  leaders.  Curiosity  accounted  for  the 
presence  of  many,  the  hope  of  plunder  for  that  of  more;  but 
there  were  hundreds  of  ferocious- looking  men  who  thirsted 
for  blood  and  lawless  power.  A  Catholic  priest,  to  his  honor 
be  it  said,  had  addressed  the  crowd  and  pleaded  for  peace 
and  order;  but  his  words,  although  listened  to  respectfully, 
were  soon  forgotten.  What  this  section  of  the  mob,  which 
was  now  mustering  in  a  score  of  localities,  would  have  done 
first  it  is  impossible  to  say;  for  as  it  began  to  be  agitated 
with  passion,  ready  to  precipitate  its  brutal  force  on  any 
object  that  caught  its  attention,  the  cry,  "Cops  and  soldiers 
coming,"  echoed  up  the  avenue  from  block  to  block,  a  long, 
hoarse  wave  of  sound. 

Carpenter,  with  his  force,  marched  quietly  through  the 
crowd  from  Twenty-first  to  Thirty-second  Street,  paying 
no  heed  to  the  hootings,  yells,  and  vile  epithets  that  were 
hurled  from  every  side.  Dirty,  ragged  women,  with  di- 
shevelled hair  and  bloated  faces,  far  exceeded  the  men  in 
the  use  of  Billingsgate;  and  the  guardians  of  the  law,  as 
they  passed  through  those  long  lines  of  demoniacal  visages, 
scowling  with  hate,  and  heard  their  sulphurous  invectives, 
saw  what  would  be  their  fate  if  overpowered.  It  was  a  con- 
flict having  all  the  horrors  of  Indian  warfare,  as  poor  Colonel 
O'Brien,  tortured  to  death  through  the  long  hot  afternoon 
of  that  same  day,   learned  in  agony. 


A    FAIR    FRIEND   AND    FOUL    FOES  461 

The  mob  in  the  street  had  not  ventured  on  anything 
more  offensive  than  jeers  and  curses,  but  when  Carpenter's 
command  reached  Thirty-second  Street  it  was  assailed  in 
a  new  and  deadly  manner.  Bioters,  well  provided  with 
stones  and  brickbats,  had  stationed  themselves  on  the  roofs, 
and,  deeming  themselve?  secure,  began  to  rain  the  missiles 
on  the  column  below,  which  formed  but  too  conspicuous  a 
mark.  This  was  a  new  and  terrible  danger  which  Merwyn 
had  not  anticipated,  and  he  wondered  how  Carpenter  would 
meet  the  emergency.  Comrades  were  falling  around  him, 
and  a  stone  grazed  his  shoulder  which  would  have  brained 
him  had  it  struck  his  head. 

Their  leader  never  hesitated  a  moment.  The  command, 
"Halt,  charge  those  houses,  brain  every  devil  that  resists," 
rang  down  the  line. 

The  crowd  on  the  sidewalk  gave  v.ay  before  the  deeply 
incensed  and  resolute  officers  of  the  law.  Merwyn,  with  a 
half-dozen  others,  seized  a  heavy  pole  which  had  been  cut 
down  in  order  to  destroy  telegraphic  communication,  and, 
using  it  as  a  ram,  crashed  in  the  door  of  a  tall  tenement- 
house  on  the  roof  of  which  were  a  score  of  rioters,  meantime 
escaping  their  missiles  as  by  a  miracle.  Eushing  in,  paying 
no  heed  to  protests,  and  clubbing  those  who  resisted,  he 
kept  pace  with  the  foremost.  In  his  left  hand,  however, 
he  carried  his  trusty  revolver,  for  he  did  not  propose  to 
be  assassinated  by  skulkers  in  the  dark  passage-ways.  See- 
ing a  man  levelling  a  gun  from  a  dusky  corner,  he  fired 
instantly,  and  man  and  gun  dropped.  As  the  guardians 
of  the  law  approached  the  scuttle,  having  fought  their  way 
thither,  the  ruffians  stood  ready  to  hurl  down  bricks,  torn 
from  the  chimneys;  but  two  or  three  well-aimed  shots 
cleared  the  way,  and  the  policemen  were  on  the  roof, 
bringing  down  a  man  with  every  blow.  One  brawny  fel- 
low rushed  upon  Merwyn,  but  received  such  a  stroke  on 
his  temple  that  he  fell,  rolled  off  the  roof,  and  struck  the 
pavement,  a  crushed  and  shapeless  mass. 

The  assaults  upon  the  other  houses  were  equally  success- 


462  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 

fill,  but  the  fight  was  a  severe  one,  and  was  maintained  for 
nearly  an  hour.  The  mob  was  appalled  by  the  fate  of  their 
friends,  and  looked  on  in  sullen,  impotent  anger. 

Eaving  cleared  the  houses,  the  police  re-formed  in  the 
street,  and  marched  away  to  other  turbulent  districts. 

Only  the  military  were  left,  and  had  formed  about  a 
block  further  to  the  north.  Beyond  the  feeble  demonstra- 
tion of  the  invalid  corps  the  rioters,  as  yet,  had  had  no 
experience  with  the  soldiery.  That  policemen  would  use 
their  clubs  was  to  them  a  matter  of  course,  but  they 
scarcely  believed  that  cannon  and  musketry  would  be  em- 
ployed. Moreover,  they  were  maddened  and  reckless  that 
so  many  of  their  best  and  bravest  had  been  put  hors  de  com- 
bat. The  brief  paralysis  caused  by  the  remorseless  clubs  of 
the  police  passed,  and  like  a  sluggish  monster,  the  mob, 
aroused  to  sudden  fury,  pressed  upon  the  soldiery,  hurling 
not  only  the  vilest  epithets  but  every  missile  on  which  they 
could  lay  their  hands.  Colonel  O'Brien,  in  command  for 
the  moment,  rode  through  the  crowd,  supposing  he  could 
overawe  them  by  his  fearless  bearing;  but  they  only  scoffed 
at  him,  and  the  attack  upon  his  men  grew  more  bold  and 
reckless. 

The  limit  of  patience  was  passed.  "Fire!"  he  thun- 
dered, and  the  howitzers  poured  their  deadly  canister  point- 
blank  into  the  throng.  At  the  same  time  the  soldiers  dis- 
charged their  muskets.  Not  only  men,  but  women  fell  on 
every  side,  one  with  a  child  in  her  arms. 

A  warfare  in  which  women  stand  an  equal  chance  for 
death  and  wounds  is  a  terrible  thing,  and  yet  this  is  usually 
an  inseparable  feature  of  mob-fighting.  However,  setting 
aside  the  natural  and  instin:tive  horror  at  injuring  a  woman, 
the  depraved  creatures  in  the  streets  were  deserving  of  no 
more  sympathy  than  their  male  abettors  in  every  species  of 
outrage.  They  did  their  utmost  to  excite  and  keep  alive 
the  passions  of  the  hour.  Many  were  armed  with  knives, 
and  did  not  hesitate  to  use  them,  and  when  stronger  hands 
broke  in  the  doors  of  shops  and  dwellings  they  swarmed  after 


A    FAIR    FRIEXD    AND    FOUL    FOES  463 

—-the  most  greedy  and  unscrupulous  of  plunderers.  If  a 
negro  man,  woman,  or  child  fell  into  their  hands,  none  were 
more  brutal  than  the  unsexed  hags  of  the  mob. 

if  on  this,  and  other  occasions,  they  had  remained  in 
their  homes  they  would  not  have  suffered,  nor  would  the 
men  have  been  so  ferocious  in  their  violence.  They  were 
the  first  to  yield  to  panic,  however,  and  now  their  shrieks 
were  the  loudest  and  their  efforts  to  escape  out  of  the  deadly 
range  of  the  guns  the  most  frantic.  In  a  few  moments  the 
avenue  was  cleared,  and  the  military  marched  away,  leaving 
the  dead  and  wounded  rioters  where  they  had  fallen,  as  the 
police  had  done  before.  Instantly  the  friends  of  the  suffer- 
ers gathered  them  up  and  carried  them  into  concealment. 

This  feature,  from  the  first,  was  one  of  the  most  marked 
characteristics  of  the  outbreak.  The  number  of  rioters 
killed  and  wounded  could  be  only  guessed  at  approxi- 
mately, for  every  effort  was  made  to  bury  the  bodies  se- 
cretly, and  keep  the  injured  in  seclusion  until  they  either 
died  or  recovered.  Almost  before  a  fight  was  over  the 
prostrate  rioters  would  be  spirited  away  by  friends  or 
relatives  on  the  watch. 

The  authorities  were  content  to  have  it  so,  for  thev  had 
no  place  or  time  for  the  poor  wretches,  and  the  police  un- 
derstood that  they  were  to  strike  blows  that  would  incapaci- 
tate the  recipients  for  further  mischief. 

In  the  same  locality  which  had  witnessed  his  morning 
fight,  Colonel  O'Brien,  later  in  the  day,  met  a  fate  too 
horrible  to  be  described. 


464  ^4AT    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER   XLVIII 

DESPERATE      FIGHTING 

HAVING  again  reached  police  headquarters,  Merwyn 
rested  but  a  short  time  and  then  joined  a  force  of 
two  hundred  men  under  Inspector  Dilkes,  and  re- 
turned to  the  same  avenue  in  which  he  had  already  incurred 
such  peril.  The  mob,  having  discovered  that  it  must  cope 
with  the  military  as  well  as  the  police,  became  eager  to  ob- 
tain arms.  It  so  happened  that  several  thousand  carbines 
were  stored  in  a  wire  factory  in  Second  Avenue,  and  the 
rioters  had  learned  the  fact.  Therefore  they  swarmed 
thither,  forced  an  entrance,  and  began  to  arm  themselves 
and  their  comrades.  A  despatch  to  headquarters  announced 
the  attack  at  its  commencement,  and  the  force  we  have 
named  was  sent  off  in  hot  haste  to  wrest  from  the  mob 
the  means  of  more  effective  resistance.  Emerging  into  the 
avenue  from  Twenty-first  Street,  Dilkes  found  the  thorough- 
fare solid  with  rioters,  who,  instead  of  giving  way,  greeted 
the  police  with  bitter  curses.  Hesitating  not  a  moment  on 
account  of  vast  inequality  of  numbers,  the  leader  formed 
his  men  and  charged.  The  mob  had  grown  reckless  with 
every  hour,  and  it  now  closed  on  the  police  with  the  fe- 
rocity of  a  wild  beast.  A  terrible  hand-to-hand  conflict 
ensued,  and  Merwyn  found  himself  warding  off  and  giving 
blows  with  the  enemy  so  near  that  he  could  almost  feel 
their  hot,  tainted  breath  on  his  cheek,  while  horrid  visages 
inflamed  with  hate  and  fury  made  impressions  on  his  mind 
that  could  not  easily  pass  away.  It  was  a  close,  desperate 
encounter,  and  the  scorching  July  sun  appeared  to  kindle 


DESPERATE    FIGHTING  465 

passion  on  either  side  into  tenfold  intensity.  While  the 
police  were  disciplined  men,  obeying  every  order  and  doing 
nothing  at  random,  they  were  men,  and  they  would  not  have 
been  human  if  anger  and  thoughts  of  vengeance  had  not 
nerved  their  arms  as  they  struck  down  ruffians  who  would 
show  no  more  mercy  to  the  wounded  or  captured  than 
would  a  man-eating  tiger. 

Since  the  mob  would  not  give  way,  the  police  cut  a 
bloodv  path  through  the  throng,  and  forced  their  way  like 
a  wedge  to  the  factory.  Their  orders  were  to  capture  ail 
arms;  and  when  a  rioter  was  seen  with  a  carbine  or  a  gun 
of  any  kind,  one  or  more  of  the  police  would  rush  out  of  the 
ranks  and  seize  it,  then  fight  their  way  back. 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  factory  so  many  of  the  mob 
had  been  killed  or  wounded,  and  so  many  of  their  leaders 
were  dead  or  disabled,  that  it  again  yielded  to  panic  and 
fled.  One  desperate  leader,  although  already  bruised  and 
bleeding,  had  for  a  time  inspired  the  mob  with  much  of  his 
own  reckless  fury,  and  was  left  almost  alone  by  his  fleeing 
companions.  His  courage,  which  should  have  been  dis- 
played in  a  better  cause,  cost  him  dear,  for  a  tremendous 
blow  sent  him  reeling  against  a  fence,  the  sharp  point  of 
one  of  the  iron  pickets  caught  under  his  chin,  and  he  hung 
there  unheeded,  impaled  and  dying.  He  was  afterward 
taken  down,  and  beneath  his  soiled  overalls  and  filthy 
shirt  was  a  fair,  white  skin,  clad  in  cassimere  trousers,  a 
rich  waistcoat,  and  the  finest  of  linen.  His  delicate,  patri- 
cian features  emphasized  the  mystery  of  his  personality 
and  action. 

When  all  resistance  in  the  street  was  overcome,  there 
still  remained  the  factory,  thronged  with  armed  and  defiant 
rioters.  Dilkes  ordered  the  building  to  be  cleared,  and  Mer- 
wyn  took  his  place  in  the  storming  party.  We  shall  not 
describe  the  scenes  that  followed.  It  was  a  strife  that 
differed  widely  from  Lane's  cavalry  charge  on  the  lawn  of 
a  Southern  plantation,  with  the  eyes  of  fair  women  watch- 
ing his  deeds.     Merwyn  was  not  taking  part  with  thousands 


466  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

in  a  battle  that  would  be  historic  as  Strahan  and  Blauvelt 
had  done  at  Gettysburg.  Every  element  of  romance  and 
martial  inspiration  was  wanting.  It  was  merely  a  life-and- 
death  encounter  between  a  handful  of  policemen  and  a 
grimy,  desperate  band  of  ruffians,  cornered  like  rats,  and 
resolved  to  sell  their  lives  dearly. 

The  building  was  cleared,  and  at  last  Merwyn,  exhausted 
and  panting,  came  back  with  his  comrades  and  took  his 
place  in  the  ranks.  His  club  was  bloody,  and  his  revolver 
empty.  The  force  marched  away  in  triumph  escorting 
wagons  loaded  with  all  the  arms  they  could  find,  and 
were  cheered  by  the  better-disposed  spectators  that  re- 
mained on  the  scene  of  action. 

The  desperate  tenacity  of  the  mob  is  shown  by  the  fact 
that  it  returned  to  the  wire  factory,  found  some  boxes  of 
arms  that  had  been  overlooked,  filled  the  great  five-story 
building  and  the  street  about  it,  and  became  so  defiant  that 
the  same  battle  had  to  be  fought  again  in  the  afternoon  with 
the  aid  of  the  military. 

For  the  sake  of  making  a  definite  impression  we  have 
touched  upon  the  conflicts  taking  place  in  one  locality. 
But  throughout  this  awful  day  there  were  mobs  all  over 
the  city,  with  fighting,  plundering,  burning,  the  chasing 
and  murdering  of  negroes  occurring  at  the  same  time  in 
many  and  widely  separated  sections.  Telegrams  for  aid 
were  pouring  into  headquarters  from  all  parts  of  the  city, 
large  tracts  of  which  were  utterly  unprotected.  The  police 
and  military  could  be  employed  only  in  bodies  sufficiently 
large  to  cope  with  gatherings  of  hundreds  or  thousands. 
Individual  outrages  and  isolated  instances  of  violence  and 
plunder  could  not  be  prevented. 

But  law-abiding  citizens  were  realizing  their  danger  and 
awakening  to  a  sense  of  their  duty.  Over  four  hundred 
special  policemen  were  sworn  in.  Merchants  and  bankers  in 
Wall  Street  met  and  resolved  to  close  business.  Million, 
aires  vied  with  their  clerks  and  porters  in  patriotic  readi- 
ness to  face  danger.    Volunteer  companies  were  formed,  and 


DESPERATE   FIGHTING  467 

men  like  Hon.  William  E.  Dodge,  always  foremost  in  every 
good  effort  in  behalf  of  the  city,  left  their  offices  for  mili- 
tary duty.  While  thousands  of  citizens  escaped  from  the 
city,  with  their  families,  not  knowing  where  they  would 
find  a  refuge,  and  obeying  only  the  impulse  to  get  away 
from  a  place  apparently  doomed,  other  thousands  remained, 
determined  to  protect  their  hearths  and  homes  and  to  pre- 
serve their  fair  metropolis  from  destruction.  Terrible  as 
was  the  mob,  and  tenfold  more  terrible  as  it  would  have 
been  if  it  had  used  its  strength  in  an  organized  effort  and 
with  definite  purpose,  forces  were  now  awakening  and  con- 
centrating against  it  which  would  eventually  destroy  every 
vestige  of  lawlessness.  With  the  fight  on  Broadway,  during 
Monday  evening,  the  supreme  crisis  had  passed.  After  that 
the  mob  fought  desperate  but  losing  battles.  Acton,  with 
Napoleonic  nerve  and  skill,  had  time  to  plan  and  organize. 
General  Brown  with  his  brave  troops  reached  him  on  Mon- 
day night,  and  thereafter  the  two  men,  providentially 
brought  and  kept  together,  met  and  overcame,  in  cordial 
co-operation,  every  danger  as  it  arose.  Their  names  should 
never  be  forgotten  by  the  citizens  of  New  York.  Acton, 
as  chief  of  police,  was  soon  feared  more  than  any  other 
man  in  the  city,  and  he  began  to  receive  anonymous  let- 
ters assuring  him  that  he  had  "but  one  more  day  to  live." 
He  tossed  them  contemptuously  aside,  and  turned  to  the 
telegrams  imploring  assistance.  In  every  blow  struck  his 
iron  will  and  heavy  hand  were  felt.  For  a  hundred  hours, 
through  the  storm,  he  kept  his  hand  on  the  helm  and  never 
closed  his  eyes.  He  inspired  confidence  in  the  men  who 
obeyed  him,  and  the  humblest  of  them  became  heroes. 

The  city  was  smitten  with  an  awful  paralysis.  Stages 
and  street  cars  had  very  generally  ceased  running;  shops 
were  closed;  Broadway  and  other  thoroughfares  and  cen- 
tres usually  so  crowded  were  at  times  almost  deserted;  now 
and  then  a  hack  would  whirl  by  with  occupants  that  could 
not  be  classified.  They  might  be  leaders  of  the  mob,  detec- 
tives, or  citizens  in  disguise  bent  on  public  or  private  busi- 


463  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ness.  On  one  occasion  a  millionaire  whose  name  is  known 
and  honored  throughout  the  land,  dressed  in  the  mean 
habiliments  of  a  laborer,  drove  a  wagon  up  Broadway  in 
which  was  concealed  a  load  of  arms  and  ammunition.  In 
hundreds  of  homes  fathers  and  sons  kept  watch  with  rifles 
and  revolvers,  while  city  and  State  authorities  issued 
proclamations. 

It  was  a  time  of  strange  and  infinite  vicissitude,  yet  ap- 
parently the  mob  steadily  attained  vaster  and  more  terrible 
proportions,  and  everywhere  lawlessness  was  on  the  in- 
crease, especially  in  the  upper  portions  of  the  city. 

Mr.  Vosburgh,  with  stern  and  clouded  brow,  obtained 
information  from  all  available  sources,  and  flashed  the  vital 
points  to  Washington.  He  did  not  leave  Marian  alone  very 
long,  and  as  the  day  advanced  kept  one  of  his  agents  in  the 
house  during  his  absences.  He  failed  to  meet  Merwyn  at 
headquarters,  but  learned  of  the  young  man's  brave  action 
from  one  of  his  wounded  comrades. 

When  Mr.  Vosburgh  told  Marian  of  the  risks  which  her 
new  friend  was  incurring,  and  the  nature  of  the  fighting  in 
which  he  was  engaged,  she  grew  so  pale  and  agitated  that 
he  saw  that  she  was  becoming  conscious  of  herself,  of  the 
new  and  controlling  element  entering  into  her  life. 

This  self-knowledge  was  made  tenfold  clearer  by  a  brief 
visit  from  Mrs.  Ghegan. 

"Oh!  how  dared  you  come ?"  cried  Marian. 

"The  strates  are  safe  enough  for  the  loikes  o'  me,  so  oi 
kape  out  o'  the  crowds,"  was  the  reply,  "but  they're  no 
place  fer  ye,  Miss  Marian.  Me  brogue  is  a  password  ivery- 
where,  an'  even  the  crowds  is  civil  and  dacent  enough  on- 
less  something  wakes  the  divil  in  'em;"  and  then  followed 
a  vivid  account  of  her  experiences  and  of  the  timely  help 
Merwyn  had  given  her. 

"The  docthers  think  me  Barney' 11  live,  but  oi  thank 
Misther  Merwyn  that  took  him  out  o'  the  very  claws  uv 
the  bloody  divils,  and  not  their  bat's  eyes.  Faix,  but  he 
tops  all  yez  frin's,  Miss  Marian,  tho'  ye're  so  could  to  'im. 


DESPERATE    FIGHTING  469 

All  the  spalpanes  in  the  strates  couldn't  make  'im  wink, 
yet  while  I  was  a-wailin'  over  Barney  he  was  as  tender- 
feelin'  as  a  baby." 

The  girl's  heart  fluttered  strangely  at  the  words  of  her 
former  maid,  but  she  tried  to  disguise  her  emotion.  When 
again  left  alone  she  strained  her  ears  for  every  sound  from 
the  city,  and  was  untiring  in  her  watch.  From  noon  till 
evening  she  kept  a  dainty  lunch  ready  for  Merwyn,  but  he 
did  not  come. 

After  the  young  man's  return  from  his  second  fight  he 
was  given  some  rest.  In  the  afternoon,  he,  with  others,  was 
sent  on  duty  to  the  west  side,  the  force  being  carried  thither 
in  stages  which  Acton  had  impressed  into  the  service.  One 
driver  refused  to  stir,  saying,  insolently,  that  he  had  "not 
been  hired  to  carry  policemen." 

"Lock  that  man  in  cell  No.  4,"  was  Acton's  answer, 
while,  in  the  same  breath,  he  ordered  a  policeman  to  drive. 

That  was  the  superintendent's  style  of  arguing  and  de- 
spatching business. 

Merwyn  again  saw  plenty  of  service,  for  the  spirit  of 
pandemonium  was  present  in  the  west  side.  Toward  even- 
ing, however,  the  rioters  ceased  their  aimless  and  capricious 
violence,  and  adopted  in  their  madness  the  dangerous  method 
of  Parisian  mobs.  They  began  throwing  up  a  series  of  barri- 
cades in  Eighth  Avenue.  Vehicles  of  all  kinds  within  reach, 
telegraph  poles,  boxes— anything  that  would  obstruct — were 
wired  together.  Barricades  were  also  erected  on  cross-streets, 
to  prevent  flank  movements.  Captain  Walling,  of  the  police, 
who  was  on  duty  in  the  precinct,  appreciated  the  importance 
of  abolishing  this  feature  from  street  fighting  as  speedily  as 
possible,  and  telegraphed  to  headquarters  for  a  co-operating 
military  force.  He  also  sent  to  General  Sanford,  at  the  ar- 
senal, for  troops.  They  were  promised,  but  never  sent. 
General  Brown,  fortunately,  was  a  man  of  a  very  different 
stamp  from  Sanford,  and  he  promptly  sent  a  body  of 
regulars. 

Captain  Slott  took  command  of  the  police  detailed  to  co- 


470  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

operate  with  the  soldiers,  and,  with  their  officers,  waited  im- 
patiently and  vainly  for  the  company  promised  by  Sanford. 
Meanwhile  the  mob  was  strengthening  its  defences  with 
breathless  energy,  and  the  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west. 
As  the  difficult  and  dangerous  work  to  be  done  required 
daylight  it  was  at  last  resolved  to  wait  no  longer. 

As  the  assailants  drew  near  the  barricade,  they  received 
a  volley,  accompanied  by  stones  and  other  missiles.  The 
police  fell  back  a  little  to  the  left,  and  the  troops,  advanc- 
ing, returned  the  fire.  But  the  rioters  did  not  yield,  and 
for  a  time  the  crash  of  musketry  resounded  through  the 
avenue,  giving  the  impression  of  a  regular  pitched  battle. 
The  accurate  aim  of  the  soldiers,  however,  at  last  decided 
the  contest,  and  the  rioters  fled  to  the  second  barricade,  fol- 
lowed by  the  troops,  while  the  police  tore  away  the  captured 
obstruction. 

Obtaining  a  musket  and  cartridges  from  a  wounded  sol- 
dier, Merwyn,  by  explaining  that  he  was  a  good  marksman, 
obtained  the  privilege  of  fighting  on  the  left  flank  of  the 
military. 

The  mob  could  not  endure  the  steady,  well-directed  fire 
of  the  regulars,  and  one  barricade  after  another  was  carried, 
until  the  rioters  were  left  uncovered,  when  they  fled,  shriek- 
ing, yelling,  cursing  in  their  impotent  rage — the  police  with 
their  clubs  and  the  soldiers  with  their  rifles  following  and 
punishing  them  until  the  streets  were  clear. 

Merwyn,  having  been  on  duty  all  day,  obtained  a  leave 
of  absence  till  the  following  morning,  and,  availing  himself 
of  his  old  device  to  save  time  and  strength,  went  to  a  livery 
stable  near  the  station-house  and  obtained  a  hack  by  pay- 
ment of  double  the  usual  fare.  Mounting  the  box  with  the 
driver,  and  avoiding  crowds,  he  was  borne  rapidly  toward 
Mr.  Vosburgh's  residence.  He  was  not  only  terribly  ex- 
hausted, but  also  consumed  with  anxiety  as  to  the  safety 
of  the  girl  who  had  never  been  absent  long  from  his 
thoughts,    even   in   moments   of   the   fiercest   conflict. 


ONE    FACING    HUNDREDS  471 


T 


CHAPTER   XLIX 

ONE    FACING    HUNDREDS 

HE  evening  was  growing  dusky  when  Merwyn  dis- 
missed his  carriage  and  hastened  to  Mr.  Vosburgh's 
residence.  Marian  and  her  father  had  waited  for  him 
until  their  faces  were  clouded  with  anxiety  by  reason  of  his 
long  delay.  The  young  girl's  attempt  to  dine  with  her 
father  was  but  a  formal  pretence. 

At  last  she  exclaimed,  "Something  must  have  happened 
to  Mr.  Merwyn!" 

"Do  not  entertain  gloomy  thoughts,  my  dear.  A  hun- 
dred things  besides  an  injury  might  have  detained  him. 
Keep  a  good  dinner  ready,  and  1  think  he'll  do  justice  to 
it  before  the  evening  is  over. 

Even  then  the  German  servant  announced  his  presence 
at  the  basement  door,  which,  in  view  of  the  disguises  worn, 
was  still  used  as  the  place  of  ingress  and  egress. 

Mr.  Vosburgh  hastened  to  welcome  him,  while  Marian 
bustled  around  to  complete  her  preparations.  When  he 
entered  the  dining-room  he  did  indeed  appear  weary  and 
haggard,  a  fair  counterpart  of  the  rioters  whom  he  had 
been  fighting. 

"Only  necessity.  Miss  Vosburgh,  compels  me  to  present 
mvself  in  this  scarecrow  aspect,"  he  said.  "I've  had  no 
time  or  chance  for  anything  better.  I  can  soon  report  to 
your  father  all  that  is  essential,  and  then  can  go  home  and 
return  later." 

"I  shall  be  much  hurt  if  you  do  so,"  said  Marian,  re- 
proachfully.    "1  kept  a  lunch  prepared  for  you  during  the 


472  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

afternoon,  and  now  have  a  warm  dinner  all  ready.     It  will 
be  very  ungracious  in  you  to  go  away  and  leave  it." 

"But  I  look  like  a  coal-heaver." 

"Oh,  I've  seen  well-dressed  men  before.  They  are  no 
novelty;  but  a  man  direct  from  a  field  of  battle  is  quite  in- 
teresting. Will  you  please  take  this  chair?  You  are  not 
in  the  least  like  my  other  friends.  They  obey  me  without 
questionings." 

"You  must  remember,"  he  replied,  "that  the  relation  is 
to  me  as  new  and  strange  as  it  is  welcome.  I  shall  need  a 
great  deal  of  discipline." 

"When  you  learn  what  a  martinet  I  can  be  you  may  re- 
pent, like  many  another  who  has  obtained  his  wish.  Here 
we  shall  reverse  matters.  Everything  is  topsy-turvy  now, 
you  know,  so  take  this  coffee  at  the  beginning  of  your 
dinner." 

"I  admit  that  your  orders  differ  widely  from  those  of 
police  captains."  Then  he  added,  with  quiet  significance, 
"No;  I  shall  not  repent." 

"Mr.  Merwyn,  will  you  take  an  older  man's  advice?" 

"Certainly.  Indeed,  I  am  under  your  orders,  also,  for 
the  night." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  for  it  will  be  a  night  of  deep  anx- 
iety to  me.  Make  a  very  light  dinner,  and  take  more  re- 
freshment later.  You  are  too  much  exhausted  to  dine 
now.  You  need  not  tell  me  of  your  morning  adventures. 
I  learned  about  those  at  headquarters." 

"I  have  heard  about  them  too,"  Marian  added,  with  a 
look  that  warmed  the  young  fellow's  soul.  "I  have  also 
had  a  visit  from  Mrs.  Ghegan,  and  her  story  was  not  so 
brief  as  yours." 

"From  what  section  have  you  just  come?"  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh  asked. 

Merwyn  gave  a  brief  description  of  the  condition  of 
affairs  on  the  west  side,  ending  with  an  account  of  the 
fight  at  the   barricades. 

"In   one    respect  you  are  like  my   other  friends,   only 


ONE   FACING    HUNDREDS  473 

more  so,"  Marian  said.  "You  are  inclined  to  give  me 
Hamlet  with  Hamlet  left  out.  What  part  did  you  take  at 
the  barricades?'' 

He  told  her  in  a  matter-of-fact  way. 

"Ah,  yes,  I  understand.  I  am  learning  to  read  between 
the  lines  of  your  stories." 

41  Well,  Heaven  be  thanked,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Vosburgh, 
"that  you  demolished  the  barricades!  If  the  rioters  adopt 
that  mode  of  fighting  us,  we  shall  have  far  greater  difficulty 
in  coping  with  them." 

At  last  Mr.  Vosburgh  said,  "Will  you  please  come  with 
me  to  my  library  for  a  few  minutes  ?" 

On  reaching  the  apartment  he  closed  the  door,  and  con- 
tinued, gravely:  "Mr.  Merwyn,  1  am  in  sore  straits.  You 
have  offered  to  aid  me.  I  will  tell  you  my  situation,  and 
then  you  must  do  as  you  think  best.  I  know  that  you  have 
done  all  a  man's  duty  to-day  and  have  earned  the  right  to 
complete  rest.  You  will  also  naturally  wish  to  look  after 
your  own  home.  Nevertheless  my  need  and  your  own 
words  lead  me  to  suggest  that  you  stay  here  to-night,  or 
at  least  through  the  greater  portion  of  it.  I  fear  that  I 
have  been  recognized  and  followed — that  I  have  enemies 
on  my  track.  I  suspect  the  man  whom  1  discharged  from 
the  care  of  my  oftice.  Yet  I  must  go  out,  for  I  have  im- 
portant despatches  to  send,  and— what  is  of  more  conse- 
quence—1  must  make  some  careful  observations.  The 
mob  seems  to  be  a  mere  lawless,  floundering  monster, 
bent  chiefly  on  plunder;  but  the  danger  is  that  leaders 
are  organizing  its  strength  as  a  part  of  the  rebellion.  You 
can  understand  that,  while  I  look  upon  the  outbreak  with 
the  solicitude  of  a  citizen  whose  dearest  interests  are  at 
stake,  I  also,  from  habit  of  mind  and  duty,  must  study  it 
as  a  part  of  the  great  campaign  of  the  year.  If  there  are 
organizers  at  work  there  will  be  signals  to-night,  and  I  can 
see  them  from  a  tall  neighboring  church-spire.  Yet  how 
can  I  leave  my  child  alone  ?     How — " 

klMr.  Vosburgh,"  cried  Merwyn,  "what  honor  or  privi- 


474  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

lege  could  I  ask  greater  than  that  of  being  your  daughter's 
protector  during  your  absence?  I  understand  you  per- 
fectly. You  feel  that  you  must  do  your  duty  at  any  cost 
to  yourself.  After  what  you  have  said,  nothing  could  in- 
duce me  to  go  away.  Indeed,  I  would  stand  guard  without 
your  door,  were  there  no  place  for  me  within. " 

"There,  I  won't  thank  you  in  words,"  said  the  elder 
man,  wringing  Merwyn's  hand.  "Will  you  do  as  I 
wish?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  lie  down  on  the  sofa  in  the  front  parlor  and  sleep 
while  you  can.  The  least  disturbance  in  the  street  would 
waken  you  there.  Marian  will  watch  from  an  upper  window 
and  give  you  warning  if  anything  occurs.  It  is  possible 
that  I  may  be  set  upon  when  returning  home,  but  I  think 
not,  for  I  shall  enter  the  house  from  the  rear;"  and  he  told 
the  young  man  of  the  means  of  exit  which  he  had  secured 
in  case  the  house  was  attacked.  "Rather  than  permit  my 
child  to  take  any  risks,"  concluded  the  father,  solemnly, 
"fly  with  her  and  the  woman  who  will  be  her  companion 
till  I  return.  Beyond  the  fact  of  general  danger  to  all 
homes,  she  does  not  suspect  anything,  nor  shall  I  increase 
her  anxieties  by  telling  her  of  my  fears.  She  will  be  vigi- 
lant on  general  principles.     Have  you  arms?" 

k'I  have  fired  most  of  my  cartridges  to-day." 

"Well,  here  is  a  revolver  and  a  repeating  rifle  that  you 
can  depend  upon.     Do  you  understand  the  latter  weapon?" 

"Yes,  I  have  one  like  it." 

"I  will  now  tell  Marian  of  my  plans,  so  far  as  it  is  wise 
for  her  to  know  them,  and  then,  God  help  and  protect  us 
all !  Come,  I  wish  you  to  lie  down  at  once,  for  every  mo- 
ment of  rest  may  be  needed." 

When  they  descended,  Mr.  Vosburgh  said  to  his  daugh- 
ter, laughingly,  "Mr.  Merwyn  is  under  orders,  and  can  have 
nothing  more  to  say  to  you  to-night." 

The  young  fellow,  in  like  vein,  brought  the  rifle  to  his 
shoulder,  presented  arms  to  her,  wheeled,  and  marched  to 


ONE   FACING    HUNDREDS  475 

his  station  in  the  darkened  front  parlor.  Before  lying  down, 
however,  he  opened  one  blind  for  an  outlook. 

''Do  you  fear  any  special  danger  to-night,  papa?"  Mar- 
ian asked,  quickly. 

"I  have  been  expecting  special  dangers  from  the  first," 
replied  her  father,  gently.  "While  I  must  do  my  duty  I 
shall  also  take  such  precautions  as  I  can.  Merwyn  will  be 
your  protector  during  my  absence.  Now  take  your  station 
at  your  upper  window  and  do  your  part."  He  explained 
briefly  what  he  expected  of  her.  "In  case  of  an  attack," 
he  concluded,  almost  sternly,  "you  must  fly  before  it  is  too 
late.  I  shall  now  go  and  prepare  Mr.  Erkmann  for  the 
possible  emergency,  and  then  go  out  through  the  base- 
ment door  as  usual,  after  giving  our  loyal  German  her 
directions." 

A  few  moments  later  he  had  departed,  all  were  at  their 
posts,  and  the  house  was  quiet. 

Merwyn  felt  the  necessity  of  rest,  for  every  bone  in  his 
body  ached  from  fatigue;  but  he  did  not  dream  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  sleep.  His  heart  was  swelling  with  pride  and  joy 
that  he  had  become,  not  only  the  friend  of  the  girl  he  loved, 
but  also  her  trusted  protector. 

But  at  last  Nature  claimed  her  dues,  and  he  succumbed 
and  slept. 

Mr.  Vosburgh,  unmolested,  climbed  to  his  lofty  height  of 
observation.  The  great  city  lay  beneath  him  with  its  myriad 
lights,  but  on  Third  Avenue,  from  Fortieth  Street  north- 
ward for  a  mile,  there  was  a  hiatus  of  darkness.  There  the 
mob  had  begun,  and  there  still  dwelt  its  evil  spirit  uncurbed. 
The  rioters  in  that  district  had  cut  oft  the  supply  of  gas,  feel- 
ing, as  did  the  French  revolutionists,  that  "Light  was  not  in 
order." 

Mr.  Vosburgh  watched  that  long  stretch  of  gloom  with 
the  greatest  anxiety.  Suddenly  from  its  mystery  a  rocket 
flamed  into  the  sky.  Three  minutes  elapsed  and  another 
threw  far  and  wide  its  ominous  light.  Again  there  was  an 
interval  of  three  minutes,  when  a  third  rocket  confirmed 


476  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

the  watcher's  fears  that  these  were  signals.  Four  minutes 
passed,  and  then,  from  the  vicinity  of  Union  Square,  what 
appeared  to  be  a  great  globe  of  fire  rose  to  an  immense 
height.  A  few  seconds  later  there  was  an  answering  rocket 
far  off  in  the  eastern  districts  of  Brooklyn. 

These  were  indeed  portents  in  the  sky,  and  Mr.  "Vos- 
burgh  was  perplexed  as  to  their  significance.  Were  they 
orders,  or  at  least  invitations,  for  a  general  uprising  against 
all  authority  ?  Was  the  rebellion  against  the  government 
about  to  become  general  in  the  great  centres  of  population  ? 
With  the  gloomiest  of  forebodings  he  watched  for  two  hours 
longer,  but  only  heard  the  hoarse  murmur  of  the  unquiet 
city,  which  occasionally,  off  to  the  west,  became  so  loud  as 
to  suggest  the  continuance  of  the  strife  of  the  day.  At  last 
he  went  to  the  nearest  available  point  and  sent  his  de- 
spatches, then  stole  by  a  circuitous  route  to  the  dwelling 
of  Mr.  Erkmann,  who  was  watching  for  him. 

Marian's  vigilance  was  sleepless.  While  she  had  been 
burdened  throughout  the  day  with  the  deepest  anxieties, 
she  had  been  engaged  in  no  exhausting  efforts,  and  the 
novelty  of  her  present  position  and  her  new  emotions  ban- 
ished the  possibility  of  drowsiness.  She  felt  as  if  she  had 
lived  years  during  the  past  two  days.  The  city  was  full  of 
dangers  nameless  and  horrible,  yet  she  was  conscious  of  an 
exaltation  of  spirit  and  of  a  happiness  such  as  she  had  never 
known. 

The  man  whom  she  had  despised  as  a  coward  was  her 
protector,  and  she  wondered  at  her  sense  of  security.  She 
almost  longed  for  an  opportunity  to  prove  that  her  courage 
could  now  be  equal  to  his,  and  her  eyes  flashed  in  the  dark- 
ness as  they  glanced  up  and  down  the  dusky  street;  again 
they  became  gentle  in  her  commiseration  of  the  weary  man 
in  the  room  below,  and  gratefully  she  thanked  God  that  he 
had  been  spared  through  the  awful  perils  of  the  daj\ 

Suddenly  her  attention  was  caught  by  the  distant  tramp 
of  many  feet.  She  threw  open  a  blind  and  listened  with  a 
beating  heart.      Yes,   a  mob  was  coming,   nearer,  nearer; 


ONE    FACING    HUNDREDS  -±77 

thev   are  at   the  corner.      With  a  sudden  outburst  of   dis- 
cordant cries  they  are  turning  into  this  very  street, 

A  moment  later  her  hand  was  upon  Merwvn's  shoulder. 
4 'Wake,  wake,"  she  cried;  k,the  mob  is  coming— is  here." 
He  was  on  his  feet  instantly  with  rifle  in  hand.  Through 
the  window  he  saw  the  dusky  forms  gathering  about  the 
door.  The  German  woman  stood  behind  Marian,  crying 
and  wringing  her  hands. 

"Miss  Vosburgh,  you  and  the  woman  do  as  I  bid," 
Merwyn  said,  sternly.  "Go  to  the  rear  of  the  hall,  open 
the  door,  and  if  I  say,  'Fly,'  or  if  I  fall,  escape  for  your 
lives. ' ' 

•'But  what  will  you — " 

••Obey!'"  he  cried,  with  a  stamp  of  his  foot. 
They  were  already  in  the  hall,  and  did  as  directed. 
Imagine  Marian's  wonder  as  she  saw  him  throw  open  the 
front  door,  step  without,  and  fire  instantly.  Then,  dropping 
his  rifle  on  his  arm,  he  began  to  use  his  revolver.  She 
rushed  to  his  side  and  saw  the  mob,  at  least  three  hundred 
strong,  scattering  as  if  swept  away  by  a  whirlwind. 

Merwvn's  plan  of  operations  had  been  bold,  but  it 
proved  the  best  one.  In  the  streets  he  had  learned  the 
effect  of  fearless,  decisive  action,  and  he  had  calculated 
correctlv  on  the  panic  which  so  often  seized  the  undisci- 
plined hordes.  They  probably  believed  that  his  boldness 
was  due  to  the  fact  that  he  had  plenty  of  aid  at  hand.  So 
long  as  there  was  a  man  within  range  he  continued  to  tire, 
then  became  aware  of  Marian's  presence. 

"Oh,  Miss  Vosburgh,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "you  should 
not  look  on  sights  like  these;''  for  a  leader  of  the  mob  lay 
motionless  on  the  pavement  beneath  them. 

He  took  her  hand,  which  trembled,  led  her  within,  and 
refastened  the  door.  Her  emotion  was  so  strong  that  she 
dared  not  speak. 

"Why  did  you  take  such  a  risk?"  he  asked,  gravely. 
"What  would  your  father  have  said  to  me  if  one  of  those 
wretches  had  fired  and  wounded  vou?'' 


478  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"I — I  only  realized  one  thing — that  you  were  facing  hun- 
dreds all  alone, ' '  she  faltered. 

"Why,  Miss  Marian,  I  was  only  doing  my  duty,  and 
I  took  the  safest  way  to  perform  it.  I  had  learned  from 
experience  that  the  bluff  game  is  generally  the  best.  No 
doubt  I  gave  those  fellows  the  impression  that  there  were 
a  dozen  armed  men  in  the  house. ' ' 

But  her  emotion  was  too  strong  for  control,  and  she 
sobbed:  "It  was  the  bravest  thing  I  ever  heard  of.  Oh!  I 
have  done  you  such  wrong!  Forgive  me.  I — I— can't — " 
and  she  hastened  up  the  dusky  stairway,  followed  by  her 
servant,  who  was  profuse  in  German  interjections. 

"I  am  repaid  a  thousand-fold,"  was  Merwyn's  quiet 
comment.     "My  oath  cannot  blight  my  life  now." 

Sleep  had  been  most  effectually  banished  from  his  eyes, 
and  as  he  stood  in  the  unlighted  apartment,  motionless  and 
silent,  looking  out  upon  the  dusky  street,  but  a  few  mo- 
ments passed  before  a  man  and  a  woman  approached  cau- 
tiously, lifted  the  slain  rioter,  and  bore  him  away. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  Mr.  Vosburgh  entered  his  house 
from  the  rear  so  silently  that  he  was  almost  beside  Merwyn 
before  his  approach  was  recognized. 

"What,  Merwyn!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  little  chiding  in 
his  tone;  "is  this  the  way  you  rest?  You  certainly  haven't 
stood  here,  'like  Patience  on  a  monument,'  since  I  left?" 

"No,  indeed.  You  are  indebted  to  Miss  Vosburgh  that  you 
have  a  home  to  come  to,  for  I  slept  so  soundly  that  the  house 
might  have  been  carried  off  bodily.    The  mob  has  been  here. " 

"Oh,  papa!"  cried  Marian,  clasping  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  "thank  God  you  are  back  safe!  Oh,  it  was  all  so 
sudden  and  terrible!" 

11  But  how,  how,  Merwyn?     What  has  happened?" 

"Well,  sir,  Miss  Vosburgh  was  a  better  sentinel  than  I, 
and  heard  the  first  approach  of  the  ruffians.  I  was  sleeping 
like  old  Rip  himself.  She  wakened  me.  A  shot  or  two 
appeared  to  create  a  panic,  and  they  disappeared  like  a 
dream,  as  suddenly  as  they  had  come." 


ONE   FACING    HUNDREDS  479 

"Just  listen  to  him,  papa!"  cried  the  girl,  now  reassured 
by  her  father's  presence,  and  recovering  from  her  nervous 
shock.  "Why  shouldn't  he  sleep  after  such  a  day  as  he 
has  seen?  It  was  his  duty  to  sleep,  wasn't  it?  The  idea 
of  two  sentinels  in  a  small  garrison  keeping  awake,  watching 
the  same  points  I" 

"I'm  very  glad  you  obtained  some  sleep,  Merwyn,  and 
surely  you  had  earned  it;  but  as  yet  I  have  a  very  vague 
impression  of  this  mob  and  of  the  fight.  I  looked  down  the 
street  but  a  few  moments  ago,  and  it  seemed  deserted.  It 
is  quiet  now.     Have   you  not  both  slept  and  dreamed?" 

"No,  papa,"  said  the  girl,  shudderingly;  "there's  a  dead 
man  at  the  foot  of  our  steps  even  now." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Miss  Vosburgh.  As  usual,  his 
friends  lost  no  time  in  carrying  him  off." 

"Well,  well,"  cried  Mr.  Vosburgh,  "this  is  a  longer 
story  than  I  can  listen  to  without  something  to  sustain 
the  inner  man.  "Eiten"— to  the  servant— "some  fresh 
coffee,  please.  Now  for  the  lighted  dining-room— that's 
hidden  from  the  street — where  we  can  look  into  each  oth- 
er's faces.  So  much  has  happened  the  last  two  days  that 
here  in  the  dark  I  begin  to  feel  as  if  it  all  were  a  night- 
mare. Ah!  how  cosey  and  home-like  this  room  seems  after 
prowling  in  the  dangerous  streets  with  my  hand  on  the  butt 
of  a  revolver!  Come  now,  Marian,  sit  down  quietly  and 
tell  the  whole  story.  I  can't  trust  Merwyn  at  all  when 
he  is  the  hero  of  the  tale." 

"You  may  well  say  that.  I  hope,  sir,"  with  a  look  of 
mock  severity  at  the  young  fellow,  "that  your  other  reports 
to  papa  are  more  accurate  than  the  one  I  have  heard.  Can 
you  believe  it,  papa?  he  actually  threw  open  the  front 
door  and  faced  the  entire  mob  alone." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Vosburgh;  as  I  emptied  my 
revolver  and  looked  around,  a  lady  stood  beside  me.  I've 
seen  men  do  heroic  things  to-day,  but  nothing  braver  than 
that. ' ' 

"But  I  didn't  think!"  cried  the  girl;  "I  didn't  realize— " 


480  AN  ORIGINAL   BELLE 

and  then  she  paused,  while  her  face  crimsoned.     Her  heart 
had  since  told  her  why  she  had  stepped  to  his  side. 

"But  you  would  have  thought  twice,  yes,  a  hundred 
times,"  said  Merwyn,  laughing,  "if  you  hadn't  been  a  sol- 
dier.    Jove!  how  Strahan  will  stare  when  he  hears  of  it!" 

"Please,  never  tell  him,"  exclaimed  the  girl. 

Her  father  now  stood  encircling  her  with  his  arm,  and 
looking  fondly  down  upon  her.  "Well,  thank  God  we're 
all  safe  yet!  and,  threatening  as  is  the  aspect  of  affairs,  I 
believe  we  shall  see  happy  days  of  peace  and  security  before 
very  long." 

"I  am  so  glad  that  mamma  is  not  in  the  city!"  said 
Marian,  earnestly. 

"Oh  that  you  were  with  ner,  my  child!" 

"I'm  better  contented  where  I  am,"  said  the  girl,  with 
a  decided  little  nod. 

"Yes,  but,  great  God!  think  of  what  might  have  hap- 
pened if  Merwyn  had  not  been  here — what  might  still  have 
happened  had  he  not  had  the  nerve  to  take,  probably,  the 
only  course  which  could  have  saved  you!  There,  there, 
I  can't  think  of  it,  or  I  shall  be  utterly  unnerved." 

"Don't  think  of  it,  papa.  See,  I'm  over  the  shock  of  it 
already.     Now  don't  you  be  hysterical  as  I  was  yesterday." 

He  made  a  great  effort  to  rally,  but  it  was  evident  that 
the  strong  man  was  deeply  agitated.  They  all,  however, 
soon  regained  self-control  and  composure,  and  spent  a 
genial  half-hour  together,  Merwyn  often  going  to  the  par- 
lor, that  he  might  scan  the  street.  After  a  brief  discussion 
of  plans  for  the  morrow  they  separated  for  the  night,  Mer- 
wyn resuming  his  bivouac  in  the  parlor.  After  listening 
for  a  time  he  was  satisfied  that  even  mobs  must  rest,  and, 
as  the  soldiers  slept  on  their  arms,  he  slumbered,  his  rifle 
in  hand. 

When  Marian  bade  her  father  good-night  he  took  her 
face  in  his  hands  and  gazed  earnestly  down  upon  it.  The 
girl  understood  his  expression,  and  the  color  came  into  her 
fair  countenance  like  a  June  dawn. 


ONE   FACING    HUNDREDS  481 

■•  Do  you  remember,  darling,  my  words,  when  I  said, 
'I  do  not  know  how  much  it  might  cost  you  in  the  end 
to  dismiss  Mr.  Merwyn  finally'?" 

"Yes,  papa." 

"Are  you  not  learning  how  much  it  might  have  cost 
you?" 

"Yes,  papa,"  with  drooping  eyes. 

He  kissed  her,  and  nothing  more  was  said, 


Eoe— VI— 21 


482  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 


M 


CHAPTER  L 

ZEB 

ERWYN  awoke  early,  and,  as  soon  as  he  heard  the 
German  servant  coming  downstairs,  wrote  a  line 
to  Mr.  Vosburgh  saying  that  he  would  call  on  his 
way  to  headquarters,  and  then  hastened  through  the  almost 
deserted  streets  to  his  own  home.  To  his  great  satisfaction 
he  found  everything  unchanged  there.  After  luxuriating 
in  a  bath  and  a  bountiful  breakfast  he  again  instructed  his 
man  to  be  on  the  watch,  and  to  keep  up  a  fire  throughout 
the  coming  night,  so  that  a  hot  meal  might  be  had  speedily 
at  any  time. 

More  than  once  the  thought  had  crossed  his  mind: 
tl  Unless  we  make  greater  headway  with  the  riot,  that  at- 
tack on  Mr.  Vosburgh's  house  will  be  repeated.  Vengeance 
alone  would  now  prompt  the  act,  and  besides  he  is  undoubt- 
edly a  marked  man.  There's  no  telling  what  may  happen. 
Our  best  course  is  to  fight,  fight,  knock  the  wretches  on  the 
head.  With  the  quelling  of  the  mob  comes  safety;"  and, 
remembering  the  danger  that  threatened  Marian,  he  was  in 
a  savage  mood. 

On  this  occasion,  he  went  directly  to  Mr.  Vosburgh's 
residence,  resolving  to  take  no  risks  out  of  the  line  of 
duty.  His  first  thought  now  was  the  securing  of  Marian's 
safety.  He  had  learned  that  there  was  no  longer  any  spe- 
cial need  for  personal  effort  on  his  part  to  gain  information, 
since  the  police  authorities  had  wires  stretching  to  almost 
every  part  of  the  city.     An  account  of  the  risks  taken  to 


ZEB  483 

keep  up  this  telegraphic  communication  would  make  a 
strange,  thrilling  chapter  in  itself.  Moreover,  police  de- 
tectives were  busy  everywhere,  and  Mr.  Vosburgh  at  head- 
quarters and  with  the  aid  of  his  own  agents  could  now 
obtain  all  the  knowledge  essential.  Therefore  the  young 
fellow's  plan  was  simple,  and  he  indicated  his  course  at 
once  after  a  cordial  greeting  from  Mr.  Vosburgh  and  Marian. 

"Hard  fighting  appears  to  me  to  be  the  way  to  safety," 
said  he.  "I  can  scarcely  believe  that  the  rioters  will  endure 
more  than  another  day  of  such  punishment  as  they  received 
yesterday.  Indeed,  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  to-day  was 
comparatively  quiet. ' ' 

"I  agree  with  you,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh,  "unless  the 
signals  I  saw  last  night  indicate  a  more  general  uprising 
than  has  yet  taken  place.  The  best  elements  of  the  city 
are  arming  and  organizing.  There  is  a  deep  and  terrible 
anger  rising  against  the  mob  and  all  its  abettors  and  sym- 
pathizers." 

"I  know  it,"  cried  Merwyn;  "I  feel  it  myself.  When 
I  think  of  the  danger  which  threatened  your  home  and 
especially  Miss  Vosburgh,  I  feel  an  almost  ungovernable 
desire  to  be  at  the  wretches." 

"But  that  means  greater  peril  for  you,"  faltered  the 
young  girl. 

"No,  it  means  the  shorest  road  to  safety  for  us  all.  A 
mob  is  like  fire:  it  must  be  stamped  out  of  existence  as 
soon  as  possible." 

"I  think  Merwyn  is  right,"  resumed  Mr.  Vosburgh. 
"Another  day  of  successful  fighting  will  carry  us  to  safety, 
for  the  general  government  is  moving  rapidly  in  our  behalf, 
and  our  militia  regiments  are  on  their  way  home.  I'll  be 
ready  to  go  to  headquarters  with  you  in  a  minute." 

"Oh,  please  do  not  be  rash  to-day.  If  you  had  fallen 
yesterday  think  what  might  have  happened,"  said  Marian, 

"Every  blow  I  strike  to-day,  Miss  Vosburgh,  will  be 
nerved  by  the  thought  that  you  have  one  enemy,  one  dan- 
ger, the  less;    and  I  shall  esteem  it  the  greatest  of  privi- 


484  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

leges  if  I  can  remain  here  to-night  again  as  one  of  your 
protectors. ' ' 

"I  cannot  tell  you  what  a  sense  of  security  your  presence 
gives  me,"  she  replied.  "You  seem  to  know  just  what  to 
do  and  how  to  do  it. ' ' 

"Well,"  he  answered,  with  a  grim  laugh,  "one  learns 
fast  in  these  times.  A  very  stern  necessity  is  the  mother 
of  invention." 

"Yes,"  sighed  the  girl,  "one  learns  fast.  Now  that  I 
have  seen  war,  it  is  no  longer  a  glorious  thing,  but  full  of 
unspeakable  horrors." 

"This  is  not  war,"  said  Merwyn,  a  little  bitterly.  "I 
pity,  while  I  detest,  the  poor  wretches  we  knock  on  the 
head.  Your  friends,  who  have  fought  the  elite  of  the  South, 
will  raise  their  eyebrows  if  they  hear  us  call  this  war." 

"I  have  but  one  friend  who  has  faced  a  mob  alone,"  she 
replied,  with  a  swift,  shy  glance. 

"A  friend  whom  that  privilege  made  the  most  fortunate 
of  men,"  he  replied.  "Had  the  rioters  been  Southern  sol- 
diers, they  would  have  shot  me  instantly,  instead  of  running 
away." 

"All  my  friends  soon  learn  that  I  am  stubborn  in  my 
opinions,"  was  ber  laughing  reply,  as  her  father  joined 
them. 

Mr.  Erkmann  on  the  next  street  north  was  a  sturdy, 
loyal  man,  and  he  permitted  Mr.  Vosburgh  and  Merwyn 
to  pass  out  through  his  house,  so  that  to  any  one  who  was 
watching  the  impression  would  be  given  that  at  least  two 
men  were  in  the  house.  Burdened  with  a  sense  of  danger, 
Mr.  Vosburgh  had  resolved  on  brief  absences,  believing 
that  at  headquarters  and  through  his  agents  he  could  learn 
the  general  drift  of  events. 

Broadway  wore  the  aspect  of  an  early  Sunday  morning 
in  quiet  times.  Pedestrians  were  few,  and  the  stages  had 
ceased  running.  The  iron  shutters  of  the  great  Fifth  Ave- 
nue and  other  hotels  were  securely  fastened.  No  street  cars 
jingled  along  the  side  avenues;  shops  were  closed;  and  the 


ZEB  485 

paralysis  of  business  was  almost  complete  in  its  greatest 
centres.  At  police  headquarters,  however,  the  most  intense 
activity  prevailed.  Here  were  gathered  the  greater  part  of 
the  police  force  and  of  the  military  co-operating  with  it. 
The  neighboring  African  church  was  turned  into  a  barrack. 
Actor  occupied  other  buildings,  with  or  without  the  consent 
of  the  owners. 

The  top  floor  of  the  police  building  was  thronged  with 
colored  refugees,  thankful  indeed  to  have  found  a  place  of 
safety,  but  many  were  consumed  with  anxiety  on  account 
of  absent  ones. 

The  sanguine  hopes  for  a  more  quiet  day  were  not  ful- 
filled, but  the  severest  fighting  was  done  by  the  military, 
and  cavalry  now  began  to  take  part  in  the  conflict.  On  the 
west  side,  Seventh  Avenue  was  swept  again  and  again  with 
grape  and  canister  before  the  mob  gave  way.  On  the  east 
side  there  were  several  battles,  and  in  one  of  them,  fought 
just  before  night,  the  troops  were  compelled  to  retreat,  leav- 
ing some  of  their  dead  and  wounded  in  the  streets.  General 
Brown  sent  Captain  Putnam  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  reg- 
ulars to  the  scene  of  disaster  and  continued  violence,  and  a 
sanguinary  conflict  ensued  between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock 
at  night  Putnam  swept  the  dimly  lighted  streets  with  his 
cannon,  and  when  the  rioters  fled  into  the  houses  he  opened 
such  a  terrible  fire  upon  them  as  to  subdue  all  resistance. 
The  mob  was  at  last  learning  that  the  authorities  would 
neither  yield  nor  scruple  to  make  use  of  any  means  in  the 
conflict 

In  the  great  centres  downtown,  things  were  compara- 
tively  quiet.  The  New  York  "Times"  took  matters  into 
its  own  hands.  A  glare  of  light  from  the  windows  of  its 
building  was  shed  after  nightfall  over Printing-House  Square, 
and  editors  and  reporters  had  their  rifles  as  readily  within 
reach  as  their  pens. 

We  shall  not  follow  Merwyn's  adventures,  for  that  would 
involve  something  like  a  repetition  of  scenes  already  de- 
scribed.    As  the  day  was  closing,  however,  he  took  part  in 


486  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

an  affair  which  explained  the  mystery  of  Mammy  Borden's 
disappearance. 

During  the  first  day  of  the  riot  the  colored  woman  had 
seen  enough  to  realize  her  own  danger  and  that  of  her  son, 
and  she  was  determined  to  reach  him  and  share  his  fate, 
whatever  it  might  be.  She  had  no  scruple  in  stealing  away 
from  Mr.  Yosburgh's  house,  for  by  her  departure  she  re- 
moved a  great  peril  from  her  employers  and  friends.  She 
was  sufficiently  composed,  however,  to  put  on  a  heavy  veil 
and  gloves,  and  so  reached  her  son  in  safety.  Until  the 
evening  of  the  third  day  of  the  riot,  the  dwelling  in  which 
they  cowered  escaped  the  fury  of  the  mob,  although  occu- 
pied by  several  colored  families.  At  last  the  hydra- headed 
monster  fixed  one  of  its  baleful  eyes  upon  the  spot.  Just 
as  the  occupants  of  the  house  were  beginning  to  hope,  the 
remorseless  wretches  came,  and  the  spirit  of  Tophet  broke 
loose.  The  door  was  broken  in  with  axes,  and  savage  men 
streamed  into  the  dwelling.  The  poor  victims  tried  to  bar- 
ricade themselves  in  the  basement,  but  their  assailants  cut 
the  water-pipes  and  would  have  drowned  them.  Driven 
out  by  this  danger,  the  hunted  creatures  sought  to  escape 
through  the  yard.  As  Zeb  was  lifting  his  mother  over  the 
fence  the  rioters  came  upon  her  and  dragged  her  back. 

"Kill  me,  kill  me,"  cried  Zeb,  "but  spare  my  mother." 
They  seemed  to  take  him  at  his  word.  Two  of  the  fiends 
held  his  arms,  while  another  struck  him  senseless  and  ap- 
parently dead  with  a  crowbar.  Then,  not  accepting  this 
heroic  self-sacrifice,  they  began  to  beat  the  grief-frenzied 
mother.  But  retribution  was  at  hand.  The  cries  of  the 
victims  and  the  absorption  of  the  rioters  in  their  brutal 
work  prevented  them  from  hearing  the  swift,  heavy  tread 
of  the  police.  A  moment  later  Merwyn  and  others  rushed 
through  the  hallway,  and  the  ruffians  received  blows  similar 
to  the  one  which  had  apparently  bereft  poor  Zeb  of  life. 
The  rioters  were  either  dispersed  or  left  where  they  fell,  a 
wagon  was  impressed,  and  Zeb  and  his  mother  were  brought 
to  headquarters.     Merwyn  had  soon  recognized  Mrs.  Bor- 


zeb  487 

den,  but  she  could  not  be  comforted.  Obtaining  leave  of 
absence,  the  young  man  waited  until  the  evening  grew 
dusky ;  then  securing  a  hack  from  a  stable  near  headquar- 
ters, the  proprietor  of  which  was  disposed  to  loyalty  by  rea- 
son of  his  numerous  blue-coated  neighbors,  he  took  the 
poor  woman  and  the  scarcely  breathing  man  to  a  hospital, 
and  left  money  for  their  needs.  The  curtains  of  the  car- 
riage had  been  closely  drawn;  but  if  the  crowds  through 
which  they  sometimes  passed  had  guessed  its  occupants, 
they  would  have  instantly  met  a  tragic  fate,  while  Merwyn's 
and  the  driver's  chances  would  have  been  scarcely  better, 


488  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 


M 


CHAPTER  LI 

A  TRAGEDY 

R.  VOSBURGH  and  his  daughter  had  passed  a  very 
anxious  day,  the  former  going  out  but  seldom. 
The  information  obtained  from  the  city  had  not 
been  reassuring,  for  while  the  authorities  had  under  their 
direction  larger  bodies  of  men,  and  lawlessness  was  not  so 
general,  the  mob  was  still  unquelled  and  fought  with  greater 
desperation  in  the  disaffected  centres.  In  the  after-part  of 
the  day  Mr.  Vosburgh  received  the  cheering  intelligence 
that  the  Seventh  Regiment  would  arrive  that  night,  and 
that  other  militia  organizations  were  on  their  way  home. 
Therefore  he  believed  that  if  they  escaped  injury  until  the 
following  morning  all  cause  for  deep  anxiety  would  pass 
away.  As  the  hours  elapsed  and  no  further  demonstration 
was  made  against  his  home,  his  hopes  grew  apace,  and  now, 
as  he  and  his  daughter  waited  for  Merwyn  before  dining,  he 
said,  "I  fancy  that  the  reception  given  to  the  mob  last  night 
has  curbed  their  disposition  to  molest  us." 
"Oh,  papa,  what  keeps  Mr.  Merwyn?" 
"Well,  my  dear,  I  know  he  was  safe  at  noon." 
"Oh,  oh,  I  do  hope  that  this  will  be  the  last  day  of  this 
fearful  suspense!  Isn't  it  wonderful  what  Mr.  Merwyn  has 
done  in  the  past  few  days?" 

"Not  so  wonderful  as  it  seems.  Periods  like  these  always 
develop  master-spirits,  or  rather  they  give  such  spirits  scope. 
How  little  we  knew  of  Acton  before  this  week!  yet  at  the 
beginning  he  seized  the  mob  by  the  throat  and  has  not  once 
relaxed  his  grasp.     He  has  been  the  one  sleepless  man  in 


A    TRAGEDY 


489 


the  city,  and  how  he  endures  the  strain  is  almost  beyond 
mortal  comprehension.  The  man  and  the  hour  came  to- 
gether. The  same  is  true  of  Merwyn  in  his  sphere.  He  had 
been  preparing  for  this,  hoping  that  it  would  give  him  an 
opportunity  to  right  himself.  Fearless  as  the  best  of  your 
friends,  he  combines  with  courage  the  singularly  cool,  reso- 
lute nature  inherited  from  his  father.  He  is  not  in  the  least 
ambitious  for  distinction,  but  is  only  bent  on  carrying  out 
his  own  aims  and  purposes." 

41  And  what  are  they,  papa?" 

" Sly  fox!  as  if  you  did  not  know.     Who  first  came  to 
your  protection?" 

14 And  to  think  how  I  treated  him!" 

"Quite  naturally,  under  the  circumstances.  The  mys- 
tery of  his  former  restraint  is  still  unexplained,  but  I  now 
think  it  due  to  family  reasons.  Yet  why  he  should  be  so 
reluctant  to  speak  of  them  is  still  another  mystery.  He  has 
no  sympathy  with  the  South  or  his  mother's  views,  yet 
why 'should  he  not  say,  frankly,  4I  cannot  fight  against  my 
mother's  people'?  When  we  think,  however,  that  the  sons 
of  the  same  mother  are  often  arrayed  against  each  other  in 
this  war,  such  a  reason  as  I  have  suggested  appears  entirely 
inadequate.  All  his  interests  are  at  the  North,  and  he  is 
thoroughly  loyal;  but  when  I  intimated,  last  evening,  that 
he  might  wish  to  spend  the  night  in  his  own  home  to  insure 
its  protection,  it  seemed  less  than  nothing  to  him  compared 
with  your  safety.  He  has  long  had  this  powerful  motive 
to  win  your  regard,  and  yet  there  has  been  some  restraint 
more  potent." 

11  But  you  trust  him  now,  papa?" 
"Yes." 

Thus  they  talked  until  the  clock  struck  eight,  and 
Marian,  growing  pallid  with  anxiety  and  fear,  went  to  the 
darkened  parlor  window  to  watch  for  Merwyn,  then  re- 
turned and  looked  at  her  father  with  something  like  dismay 

on  her  face.  . 

Before  he  could  speak,  she  exclaimed,  uAh!  there  is  his 


490  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

ring";  and  she  rushed  toward  the  door,  paused,  came  back, 
and  said,  blushingly,  "Papa,  you  had  better  admit  him." 

Mr.  Vosburgh  smilingly  complied. 

The  young  fellow  appeared  in  almost  as  bad  a  plight  as 
when  he  had  come  in  on  Monday  night  and  gone  away  with 
bitter  words  on  his  lips.  He  was  gaunt  from  fatigue  and 
long  mental  strain.  His  first  words  were:  "Thank  God  you 
are  still  all  safe !  I  had  hoped  to  be  here  long  before  this, 
but  so  much  has  happened!" 

"What!"  exclaimed  Marian,  "anything  worse  than  took 
place  yesterday?" 

"No,  and  yes."  Then,  with  an  appealing  look;  "Miss 
Marian,  a  cup  of  your  good  coffee.  I  feel  as  if  a  rioter 
could  knock  me  down  with  a  feather." 

She  ran  to  the  kitchen  herself  to  see  that  it  was  of  the 
best  possible  quality,  and  Merwyn,  sinking  into  a  chair, 
looked  gloomily  at  his  host  and  said:  "We  have  made  little 
if  any  progress.  The  mob  grows  more  reckless  and  devilish. " 

"My  dear  fellow,"  cried  Mr.  Vosburgh,  "the  Seventh 
Regiment  will  be  here  to-night,  and  others  are  on  the 
way;"  and  he  told  of  the  reassuring  tidings  he  had  re- 
ceived. 

"Thank  Heaven,  for  your  news!  I  have  been  growing 
despondent  during  the  last  few  hours." 

"Take  this  and  cheer  up,"  cried  Marian.  "The  idea  of 
your  being  despondent!  You  are  only  tired  to  death,  and 
will  have  a  larger  appetite  for  fighting  to-morrow,  I  fear, 
than  ever." 

"No;  I  witnessed  a  scene  this  evening  that  made  me  sick 
of  it  all.  Of  course  1  shall  do  my  duty  to  the  end,  but  I 
wish  that  others  could  finish  it  up.  More  than  ever  I  envy 
your  friends  who  can  fight  soldiers;"  and  then  he  told  them 
briefly  of  the  scene  witnessed  in  the  rescue  of  Mammy  Bor- 
den and  her  son. 

"Oh,  horrible!  horrible!"  exclaimed  the  girl.  "Where 
are  they  now  ?" 

"I  took  them  from  headquarters  to  a  hospital.     They 


A    TRAGEDY  491 

both  need  the  best  surgical  attention,  though  poor  Zeb,  I 
tear,  is  past  help." 

-Merwyn,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh,  gravely,  "you  incurred 
a  fearful  risk  in  taking  those  people  through  the  streets." 

"I  suppose  so,"  replied  the  young  fellow,  quietly;  "but 
in  a  sense  they  were  a  part  of  your  household,  and  the  poor 
creatures  were  in  such  a  desperate  plight  that— 

"Mr.  Merwyn,"  cried  Marian,  a  warm  flush  mantling 
her  face,  "you  are  a  true  knight.  You  have  perilled  your 
life  for  the  poor  and  humble." 

He  looked  at  her  intently  a  moment,  and  then  said, 
quietly,  "I  would  peril  it  again  a  thousand  times  for  such 
words  from  you."  _ 

To  hide  a  sudden  confusion  she  exclaimed:  (jreat 
Heavens!  what  differences  there  are  in  men!  Those  who 
would  torture  and  kill  these  inoffensive  people  have  human 

forms." 

'•Men  are  much  that  women  make  them;  and  it  would 
almost  seem  that  women  are  the  chief  inspiration  of  this 
mob.  The  draft  may  have  been  its  inciting  cause,  but  it 
has  degenerated  into  an  insatiable  thirst  for  violence,  blood, 
and  plunder.  I  saw  an  Irishwoman  to-day  who  fought  like 
a  wild-cat  before  she  would  give  up  her  stolen  goods." 

The  German  servant  Riten  now  began  to  place  dinner  on 
the  table,  Mr.  Vosburgh  remarking,  "We  had  determined 
to  wait  for  you  on  this  occasion." 

-What  am  I  thinking  of?"  cried  Merwyn.  "If  this 
thin*  croes  on  I  shall  become  uncivilized.  Mr.  Vosburgh, 
do  take  me  somewhere  that  I  may  bathe  my  hands  and  face, 
and  please  let  me  exchange  this  horrid  blouse,  redolent  of 
the  not,  for  almost  any  kind  of  garment.  I  could  not  sit 
at  the  table  with  Miss  Vosburgh  in  my  present  guise." 

-Yes,  papa,  give  him  your  white  silk  waistcoat  and  dress- 
coat,"  added  Marian,  laughing. 

-Come  with  me,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh,  "and  I'll  find  you 
an  outfit  for  the  sake  of  your  own  comfort. " 

"I  meant  to  trespass  on  your  kindness  when  I  first  came 


492  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

in,  but  mind  and  body  seemed  almost  paralyzed.  I  feel 
better  already,  however.  While  we  are  absent  may  I  ask 
if  you  have  your  weapons  ready  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have  a  revolver  on  my  person,  and  my  rifle  is  in 
the  dining-room. " 

A  few  moments  later  the  gentlemen  descended,  Merwyn 
in  a  sack-coat  that  hung  rather  loosely  on  his  person. 
Before  sitting  down  he  scanned  the  street,  which  was  quiet. 

"My  former  advice,  Merwyn,"  said  his  host;  "you  must 
make  a  light  meal  and  wait  until  you  are  more  rested." 

"Oh,  papa,  what  counsel  to  give  a  guest!" 

"Counsel  easily  followed,"  said  Merwyn.  "I  crave  little 
else  than  coffee.  Indeed,  your  kindness,  Miss  Vosburgh, 
has  so  heartened  me,  that  I  am  rallying  fast. " 

"Since  everything  is  to  be  in  such  great  moderation, 
perhaps  I  have  been  too  prodigal  of  that,"  was  the  arch 
reply. 

"I  shall  be  grateful  for  much  or  little." 

"Oh,  no,  don't  put  anything  on  the  basis  of  gratitude. 
1  have  too  much  of  that  to  be  chary  of  it." 

"A  happy  state  of  affairs,"  said  Merwyn,  "since  what 
you  regard  as  services  on  my  part  are  priceless  favors  to 
me.  I  can  scarcely  realize  it,  and  have  thought  of  it  all 
day,  that  I  only,  of  all  your  friends,  can  be  with  you  now. 
Strahan  will  be  green  with  envy,  and  so  I  suppose  will  the 
others. " 

"I  do  not  think  any  the  less  of  them  because  it  is  impos- 
sible for  them  to  be  here,"  said  the  young  girl,  blushing. 

"Of  course  not.  It's  only  my  immense  good  fortune. 
They  would  give  their  right  eyes  to  stand  in  my  shoes." 

"I  hope  I  may  soon  hear  that  they  are  all  recovering. 
I  fear  that  Mr.  Lane's  and  Mr.  Strahan's  wounds  are  seri- 
ous; -and,  although  Mr.  Blauvelt  made  light  of  his  hurt,  he 
may  find  that  it  is  no  trifle." 

ilIt  would  seem  that  I  am  doomed  to  have  no  honorable 
scars. ' ' 

"Through  no  fault  of  yours,  Mr.  Merwyn.     I've  thought 


A    TRAGEDY  493 

so  much  of  poor  mamma  to-day!  She  must  be  wild  with 
anxiety  about  us." 

"I  think  not,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh.  "I  telegraphed  to 
her  yesterday  and  to-day.  I  admit  they  were  rather  mis- 
leading messages." 

From  time  to  time  Mr.  Vosburgh  went  to  the  outlook  on 
the  street,  but  all  remained  apparently  quiet  in  their  vicin- 
ity. Yet  an  hour  of  fearful  peril  was  drawing  near.  A 
spirit  of  vengeance,  and  a  desire  to  get  rid  of  a  most 
dangerous  enemy,  prompted  another  attack  on  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh's  home  that  night;  and,  taught  by  former  experi- 
ence, the  assailants  had  determined  to  approach  quietly 
and  light  till  they  should  accomplish  their  purpose.  They 
meant  to  strike  suddenly,  swiftly,  and  remorselessly. 

The  little  group  in  the  dining-room,  however,  grew  con- 
fident with  every  moment  of  immunity;  yet  they  could  not 
wholly  banish  their  fears,  and  Mr.  Vosburgh  explained  to 
Merwyn  how  he  had  put  bars  on  the  outside  of  the  doors 
opening  into  the  back  yard,  a  bolt  also  on  the  door  leading 
downstairs  to  the  basement. 

But  they  dined  very  leisurely,  undisturbed;  then  at 
Marian's  request  the  gentlemen  lighted  their  cigars.  Mr. 
Vosburgh  strolled  away  to  see  that  all  was  quiet  and 
secure. 

"I  shouldn't  have  believed  that  I  could  rally  so  greatly 
in  so  short  a  time,"  said  Merwyn,  leaning  back  luxuriously 
in  his  chair.  "Last  night  I  was  overcome  with  drowsiness 
soon  after  I  lay  down.  I  now  feel  as  if  I  should  never  want 
to  sleep  again.  It  will  be  my  turn  to  watch  to-night,  and 
you  must  sleep." 

"Yes,  when  I  feel  like  it,"  replied  Marian. 

"I  think  you  bear  the  strain  of  anxiety  wonderfully." 

"I  am  trying  to  retrieve  myself." 

"You  have  retrieved  yourself,  Miss  Vosburgh.  You 
have  become  a  genuine  soldier.  It  didn't  take  long  to 
make  a  veteran  of  you." 

"So  much  for  a  good  example,  you  see." 


494  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Oh,  well,  it's  easy  enough  for  a  man  to  face  danger, 
Think  how  many  thousands  do  it  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"And  must  women  be  timid  as  a  matter  of  course  ?" 

"Women  do  not  often  inspire  men  as  you  do,  Miss 
Marian.  I  know  I  am  different  from  what  I  was,  and  I 
think  I  always  shall  be  different." 

lbI  didn't  treat  you  fairly,  Mr.  Merwyn,  and  I've  grieved 
over  the  past  more  than  I  can  tell  you. ' ' 

"And  you  won't  mistrust  me  again?" 

"Never." 

'You  make  me  very  happy,  and  you  will  never  know 
how  unhappy  I  have  been.  Even  before  I  left  the  country, 
last  autumn,  I  envied  the  drummer- boys  of  Strahan's  regi- 
ment. I  don't  wish  to  take  advantage  of  your  present  feel- 
ing, or  have  you  forget  that  I  am  still  under  a  miserable 
restraint  which  I  can't  explain.  I  must  probably  resume 
my  old  inactive  life,  while  your  other  friends  win  fame  and 
rank  in  serving  their  country.  Of  course  I  shall  give  money, 
but  bah!  what's  that  to  a  girl  like  you?  When  all  this 
hurly-burly  in  the  streets  is  over,  when  conventional  life 
begins  again,  aod  I  seem  a  part  of  it,  will  you  still  regard 
me  as  a  friend  ?" 

His  distrust  touched  her  deeply,  when  she  was  giving 
him  her  heart's  best  love,  and  her  strong  feeling  caused  her 
to  falter  as  she  said,  "Do  you  think  I  can  grow  cold  toward 
the  man  who  risked  his  life  for  me  ?" 

"That  is  exaggerated  gratitude.  Any  decent  man  would 
risk  his  life  for  you.  Why,  you  were  as  brave  as  I.  I  often 
ask  myself,  Can  you  be  a  friend  for  my  own  sake,  because 
of  some  inherent  congeniality  ?  You  have  done  more  for 
your  other  friends  than  they  for  you,  and  yet  they  are  very 
dear  to  you,  because  you  esteem  them  as  men.  I  covet  a  like 
personal  regard,  and  I  hope  you  will  teach  me  to  win  it." 

"You  have  won  it — that  is — " 

"That  is — ?  There  is  a  mental  reservation,  or  you  are 
too  truthful  for  undoubted  assurance  when  shown  that 
gratitude  has  no  place  in  this  relation." 


A    TRAGEDY  495 

She  averted  her  face  from  his  searching  eyes,  and  was 
deeply  embarrassed. 

"I  feared  it  would  be  so,"  he  said,  sadly.  "But  I  do 
not  blame  you.  On  the  contrary,  I  honor  your  sincerity. 
Very  well,  I  shall  be  heartily  glad  of  any  regard  that  you 
can  give  me,  and  shall  try  to  be  worthy  of  it." 

"Mr.  Merwyn,"  she  said,  impetuously,  "no  friend  of 
mine  receives  a  stronger,  better,  or  more  sincere  regard 
than  I  give  you  for  your  own  sake.  There  now,  trust  me  as 
I  trust  you;"   and  she  gave  him  her  hand. 

He  took  it  in  his  strong  grasp,  but  she  exclaimed,  in- 
stantly: lkYou  are  feverish.  You  are  ill.  I  thought  your 
eyes  were  unnaturally  bright." 

"They  should  be  so  if  it  is  in  the  power  of  happiness  to 
kindle  them!" 

"Come  now,"  she  cried,  assuming  a  little  brusqueness  of 
manner  which  became  her  well;  "I've  given  you  my  word, 
and  that's  my  bond.  If  you  indulge  in  any  more  doubts 
I'll  find  a  way  to  punish  you.  I'll  take  my  'affidavy'  I'm 
just  as  good  a  friend  to  you  as  you  are  to  me.  If  you  doubt 
me,  I  shall  doubt  you." 

ilI  beg  your  pardon;  no  you  won't,  or  cannot,  rather. 
You  know  well  that  I  have  my  father's  unchangeable  tenac- 
ity.    It's  once  and  always  with  me." 

1 '  You  are  speaking  riddles, "  she  faltered,  averting  her  face. 

"Not  at  all.  I  am  glad  indeed  that  you  can  give  me 
simple  friendship,  unforced,  uncompelled  by  any  other  mo- 
tive than  that  which  actuates  you  in  regard  to  the  others. 
But  you  know  well — your  most  casual  glance  would  reveal 
it  to  you — that  I,  in  whom  you  have  inspired  some  sem- 
blance of  manhood,  can  never  dream  of  any  other  woman. 
When  you  see  this  truth,  as  you  often  will,  you  must  not 
punish  me  for  it.  You  must  not  try  to  cure  me  by  coldness 
or  by  any  other  of  the  conventional  remedies,  for  you  can- 
not. When  we  meet,  speak  kindly,  look  kindly;  and  should 
it  ever  be  not  best  or  right  that  we  should  meet — that  is, 
often — we  shall  not." 


496  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"You  are  scarcely  speaking  as  a  friend,"  she  said,  in  a 
low  voice. 

"Will  you  punish  me  if  I  cannot  help  being  far  more?" 

"No,  since  you  cannot  help  it,"  she  replied,  with  a  shy 
laugh. 

A  new  light,  a  new  hope,  began  to  dawn  upon  him,  and 
he  was  about  to  speak  impetuously  when  Mr.  Vosburgh 
appeared  and  said,  "Merwyn,  I've  been  watching  two  men 
who  passed  and  repassed  the  house,  and  who  seem  to  be 
reconnoitring." 

As  Merwyn  and  Marian  accompanied  him  to  the  parlor 
they  heard  the  heavy  booming  of  cannon  off  on  the  east 
side,  and  it  was  repeated  again  and  again. 

"Those  are  ominous  sounds  at  this  time  of  night,"  said 
Mr.  Vosburgh. 

"That  they  don't  come  from  the  rioters  is  a  comfort," 
Merwyn  replied;  "but  it  proves  what  I  said  before — they 
are  becoming  more  bold  and  reckless." 

"It  may  also  show  thai  the  authorities  are  more  stern 
and  relentless  in  dealing  with  them." 

At  last  the  sounds  of  conflict  died  away,  the  street  ap- 
peared quiet  and  deserted,  and  they  all  returned  to  the 
dining-room. 

The  light  enabled  Merwyn  to  look  eagerly  and  question- 
ingly  at  Marian.  She  smiled,  flushed,  and,  quickly  avert- 
ing her  eyes,  began  to  speak  on  various  topics  in  a  way  that 
warned  Merwyn  to  restrain  all  further  impatience;  but  she 
inspired  so  strong  and  delicious  a  hope  that  he  could  scarcely 
control  himself.  He  even  fancied  that  there  was  at  times  a 
caressing  accent  in  her  tone  when  she  spoke  to  him. 

"Surely,"  he  thought,  "if  what  I  said  were  repugnant, 
she  would  give  some  hint  of  the  fact;  but  how  can  it  be 
possible  that  so  soon — " 

"Come,  Marian,  I  think  you  may  safely  retire  now," 
said  her  father;    "1  hear  Kiten  coming  up." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  a  front  parlor  window  was  crashed  in. 
Merwyn  and  Mr.  Vosburgh  sprang  into  the  hall,  revolvers 


A    TRAGEDY  497 

in  hand;  Riten  instinctively  fled  back  toward  the  stairs 
leading  to  the  basement,  in  which  she  had  extinguished 
the  light,  and  Mr.  Vosburgh  told  his  daughter  to  follow 
the  servant. 

But  she  stood  still,  as  if  paralyzed,  and  saw  a  man  rush- 
ing upon  him  with  a  long  knife.  Mr.  Vosburgh  fired,  but, 
from  agitation,  ineffectually.  Merwyn  at  the  same  moment 
had  fired  on  another  man,  who  fell.  A  fearful  cry  escaped 
from  the  girl's  lips  as  she  saw  that  her  father  was  appar- 
ently doomed.  The  gleaming  knife  was  almost  above  him. 
Then— how  it  happened  she  could  never  tell,  so  swift  was 
the  movement— Merwyn  stood  before  her  father.  The  knife 
descended  upon  his  breast,  yet  at  the  same  instant  his  pistol 
exploded  against  the  man's  temple,  and  the  miscreant 
dropped  like  a  log.  There  were  sounds  of  other  men  clam- 
bering in  at  the  window,  and  Mr.  Vosburgh  snatched  Mer- 
wyn back  by  main  force,  saying  to  Marian,  "Quick!  for 
your  life!    down  the  stairs!" 

The  moment  the  door  closed  upon  them  all  he  slid  the 
heavy  bolt.     Riten  stood  sobbing  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"Hush!"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh,  sternly.  "Each  one  obey 
me.     Out  through  the  area  door  instantly." 

Across  this  he  also  let  down  a  heavy  bar,  and,  taking 
his  daughter's  hand,  he  hurried  her  to  the  fence,  removed 
the  boards,  and,  when  all  had  passed  through,  replaced 
them.  Mr.  Erkmann,  at  his  neighbor's  request,  had  left 
his  rear  basement  door  open,  and  was  on  the  watch.  He 
appeared  almost  instantly,  and  counselled  the  fugitives  to 
remain  with  him. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh;  "we  will  bring  no  more  peril 
than  we  must  on  you.  Let  us  out  into  the  street  at  once, 
snd  then  bar  and  bolt  everything." 

"But  where  can  you  go  at  this  time?" 
11  To  my  house,"  said  Merwyn,  firmly.     "Please  do  as 
Mr.  Vosburgh  asks.     It  will  be  safest  for  all.'' 
"Well,  since  you  will  have  it  so." 
kl Hasten,  hasten,"  Merwyn  urged. 


498  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Mr.  Erkmann  unlatched  the  door  and  looked  out.  The 
street  was  quiet  and  deserted,  and  the  fugitives  rushed  away 
with  whispered  thanks. 

"Marian,  tie  Eiten's  apron  over  your  head,  so  as  to  par- 
tially disguise  your  face,"  said  her  father. 

Fortunately  they  met  but  few  people,  and  no  crowds 
whatever.  As  they  approached  Merwyn's  home  his  steps 
began  to  grow  unsteady. 

"Papa, "  said  Marian,  in  agitated  tones,  "Mr.  Merwyn  is 
wounded;  he  wants  your  support. " 

"Merciful  Heaven,  Merwyn!  are  you  wounded?" 

"Yes,  hasten.     I  must  reach  home  before  giving  out." 

When  they  gained  his  door  he  had  to  be  almost  carried 
up  the  steps,  and  Mr.  Vosburgh  rang  the  bell  furiously. 

Only  a  moment  or  two  elapsed  before  the  scared  face  of 
Thomas  appeared,  but  as  Merwyn  crossed  the  threshold 
he  fainted. 

They  carried  him  to  his  room,  and  then  Mr.  Vosburgh 
said,  "Bring  a  physician  and  lose  not  a  second.  Say  it 
is  a  case  of  life  and  death.  Hold!  first  bring  me  some 
brandy." 

"Oh,  oh!"  Marian  moaned,  "I  fear  it's  death!  Oh,  papa, 
he  gave  his  life  for  you." 

"No,  no,"  was  the  hoarse  response;  "it  cannot,  shall  not 
be.  It's  only  a  wound,  and  he  has  fainted  from  loss  of 
blood.  Show  your  nerve  now.  Moisten  his  lips  with 
brandy.  You,  Eiten,  chafe  his  wrists  with  it,  while  I 
cat  open  his  shirt  and  stanch  the  wound." 

A  second  more  and  a  terrible  gash  on  Merwyn's  breast 
was  revealed.     How  deep  it  was  they  could  not  know. 

Marian  held  out  her  handkerchief,  and  it  was  first  used 
to  stop  the  flow  of  blood.  When  it  was  taken  away  she  put 
it  in  her  bosom. 

The  old  servant,  Margy,  now  rushed  in  with  lamenta- 
tions. 

1 ' Hush !"  said  Mr.  Vosburgh,  sternly.  ' ' Chafe  that  other 
wrist  with  brandy." 


A    TRAGEDY  499 

But  the  swoon  was  prolonged,  and  Marian,  pallid  to  her 
lips,  sighed  and  moanecUis  she  did  her  father's  bidding. 

Thomas  was  not  very  long  in  bringing  a  good  physician, 
who  had  often  attended  the  family.  Marian  watched  his 
face  as  if  she  were  to  read  there  a  verdict  in  regard  to  her 
own  life,  and  Mr.  Vosburgh  evinced  scarcely  less  solicitude. 

"His  pulse  certainly  shows  great  exhaustion;  but  I  can- 
not yet  believe  that  it  is  a  desperate  case.  We  must  first 
rally  him,  and  then  I  will  examine  his  wound.  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh, lift  him  up,  and  let  me  see^  if  I  cannot  make  him 
swallow  a  little  diluted  brandy." 

At  last  Merwyn  revived  somewhat,  but  did  not  seem 
conscious  of  what  was  passing  around  him.  The  physician 
made  a  hasty  examination  of  the  wound  and  said,  "It  is  not 
so  severe  as  to  be  fatal  in  itself,  but  I  don't  like  the  hot, 
dry,  feverish  condition  of  his  skin." 

"He  was  feverish  before  he  received  the  wound,"  said 
Marian,  in  a  whisper.  kkI  fear  he  has  been  going  far  beyond 
his  strength." 

"I  entreat  you,  sir,  not  to  leave  him,"  said  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh, "until  you  can  give  us  more  hope." 

"Rest  assured  that  I  shall  not.  I  am  the  family  physi- 
cian, and  I  shall  secure  for  him  in  the  morning  the  best  sur- 
gical aid  in  the  city.  All  that  can  be  done  in  these  times 
shall  be  done.  Hereafter  there  must  be  almost  absolute 
quiet,  especially  when  he  begins  to  notice  anything.  He 
must  not  be  moved,  or  be  allowed  to  move,  until  I  say  it 
is  safe.  Perhaps  if  all  retire,  except  myself  and  Thomas, 
he  will  be  less  agitated  when  he  recovers  consciousness. 
Margy,  you  make  good,  strong  coffee,  and  get  an  early 
breakfast." 

They  all  obeyed  his  suggestions  at  once. 

The  servant  showed  Mr.  Vosburgh  and  his  daughter  into 
a  sitting-room  on  the  same  floor,  and  the  poor  girl,  relieved 
from  the  necessity  of  self-restraint,  threw  herself  on  a  lounge 
and  sobbed  and  moaned  as  if  her  heart  was  breaking. 

Wise  Mr.  Vosburgh  did  not  at  first  restrain  her,  except 


500  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

by  soothing,  gentle  words.  He  knew  that  this  was  nature's 
relief,  and  that  she  would  soon  be  the  better  and  calmer 
for  it. 

The  physician  wondered  at  the  presence  of  strangers  in 
the  Merwyn  residence,  and  speedily  saw  how  Marian  felt 
toward  his  patient;  but  he  had  observed  professional  reti- 
cence, knowing  that  explanations  would  soon  come.  Mean- 
while he  carefully  sought  to  rally  his  patient,  and  watched 
each  symptom. 

At  last  Merwyn  opened  his  eyes  and  asked,  feebly: 
"Where  am  I  ?     What  has  happened?" 

"You  were  injured,  but  are  doing  well,"  was  the  prompt 
reply.  "You  know  me,  Dr.  Henderson,  and  Thomas  is  here 
also.     You  are  in  your  own  room." 

"Yes,  I  see,"  and  he  remained  silent  for  some  little  time; 
then  said,  "I  remember  all  now." 

"You  must  keep  quiet  and  try  not  to  think,  Mr.  Merwyn. 
Your  life  depends  upon  it." 

"My  mind  has  a  strong  disposition  to  wander." 

"The  more  need  of  quiet." 

"Miss  Vosburgh  is  here.     I  must  see  her." 

"Yes,  by  and  by." 

"Doctor,  I  fear  I  am  going  to  be  out  of  my  mind.  I 
must  see  Miss  Vosburgh.  I  will  see  her;  and  if  you  are 
wise  you  will  permit  me  to  do  so.  My  life  depends  upon 
it  more  than  upon  your  skill.  Do  what  I  ask,  and  I  will 
be  quiet." 

"Very  well,  then,  but  the  interview  must  be  brief." 

"It  must  be  as  I  say." 

Marian  was  summoned.  Hastily  drying  her  eyes,  she 
tried  to  suppress  her  strong  emotion. 

Merwyn  feebly  reached  out  his  hand  to  her,  and  she  sat 
down  beside  him. 

"Do  not  try  to  talk,"  she  whispered,  taking  his  hand. 

"Yes,  I  must  while  I  am  myself.  Dr.  Henderson,  I  love 
and  honor  this  girl,  and  would  make  her  my  wife  should 
she  consent.     I  may  be  dying,  but  if  she  is  willing  to  stay 


A    TRAGEDY  501 

with  me,  it  seems  as  if  I  could  live  through  everything, 
fever  and  all.  If  she  is  willing  and  you  do  not  permit 
her  to  stay,  I  want  you  to  know  that  my  blood  is  on  your 
hands!     Marian,  are  you  willing  to  stay?" 

11  Yes, "  she  replied;  and  then,  leaning  down,  she  whis- 
pered: "I  do  love  you;  I  have  loved  you  ever  since  I  un- 
derstood you.  Oh,  live  for  my  sake!  What  would  life 
be  now  without  you?" 

"Now  you  shall  stay." 

"See,  doctor,  he  is  quiet  while  I  am  with  him,"  she  said, 
pleadingly. 

"And  only  while  you  are  with  me.  I  know  I  should 
die  if  you  were  sent  away." 

"She  shall  stay  with  you,  Mr.  Merwyn,  if  you  obey  my 
orders  in  other  respects.  I  give  you  my  word,"  said  Dr. 
Henderson. 

"Very  well.     Now  have  patience  with  me." 

"Thomas,"  whispered  the  physician,  "have  the  strongest 
beef  tea  made,  and  keep  it  on  hand." 

Mr.  Vosburgh  intercepted  the  man,  and  was  briefly  told 
what  had  taken  place.  "Now  there  is  a  chance  for  them 
both,"  the  agitated  father  muttered,  as  he  restlessly  paced 
the  room.  "Oh,  how  terribly  clouded  would  our  lives  be, 
should  he  die !' ' 


502  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 


CHAPTER  LII 

MOTHER      AND      SON 

FOR  a  time  Merwyn  did  keep  quiet,  but  he  soon  began 
to  mutter  brokenly  and  unintelligibly,  Marian  tried 
to  remove  her  hand  to  aid  the  physician  a  moment, 
but  she  felt  the  feeble  tightening  of  his  clasp,  and  he  cried, 
"No,  no!" 

This,  for  days,  was  the  last  sign  he  gave  of  intelligent 
comprehension  of  what  was  going  on  around  him. 

"We  must  humor  him  as  far  as  we  can  in  safety,"  the 
doctor  remarked,  in  a  low  whisper,  and  so  began  the  battle 
for  life. 

Day  was  now  dawning,  and  Thomas  was  despatched  for 
a  very  skilful  surgeon,  who  came  and  gave  the  help  of  long 
experience. 

At  last  Dr.  Henderson  joined  Mr.  Vosburgh  in  the 
breakfast- room,  and  the  latter  sent  a  cup  of  coffee  to  his 
daughter  by  the  physician,  who  said,  when  he  returned:  "I 
think  it  would  be  well  for  me  to  know  something  about  Mr. 
Merwyn' s  experience  during  the  past  few  days.  I  shall 
understand  his  condition  better  if  I  know  the  causes  which 
led  to  it." 

Mr.  Vosburgh  told  him  everything. 

"Well,"  said  the  doctor,  emphatically,  "we  should  do 
all  within  human  effort  to  save  such  a  young  fellow." 

"I  feel  that  I  could  give  my  life  to  save  him,"  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh added. 

Hours  passed,  and  Merwyn's  delirium  became  more  pro- 
nounced.     He  released  his  grasp  on  Marian's   hand,   and 


MOTHER    AND    SON  503 

tossed  bis  arms  as  if  in  the  deepest  trouble,  bis  disordered 
mind  evidently  reverting  to  the  time  when  life  had  been- so 
dark  and  hopeless. 

"Chained,  chained,"  he  would  mutter.  "Cruel,  unnat- 
ural mother,  to  chain  her  son  like  a  slave.  My  oath  is  eat- 
ing out  my  very  heart.  She  despises  me  as  a  coward.  Oh, 
if  she  knew  what  I  was  facing!"  and  such  was  the  burden 
of  all  his  broken  words. 

The  young  girl  now  learned  the  secret  which  had  been 
so  long  unfathomed.  Vainly,  with  streaming  eyes,  she  tried 
at  first  to  reassure  him,  but  the  doctor  told  her  it  was  of  no 
use,  the  fever  must  take  its  course.  Yet  her  hand  upon  his 
brow  and  cheek  often  seemed  to  have  a  subtle,  quieting  spell. 

Mr.  Vosburgh  felt  that,  whatever  happened,  he  must 
attend  to  his  duties.  Therefore  he  went  to  headquarters 
and  learned  that  the  crisis  of  the  insurrection  had  passed. 
The  Seventh  Eegiment  was  on  duty,  and  other  militia 
organizations  were  near  at  hand. 

He  also  related  briefly  how  he  had  been  driven  from  his 
home  on  the  previous  night,  and  was  told  that  policemen 
were  in  charge  of  the  building.  Having  received  a  permit 
to  enter  it,  he  sent  his  despatch  to  Washington,  also  a 
quieting  telegram  to  his  wife,  assuring  her  that  all  danger 
was  past. 

Then  he  went  to  his  abandoned  home  and  looked  sadly 
on  the  havoc  that  had  been  made.  Nearly  all  light  articles 
of  value  had  been  carried  away,  and  then,  in  a  spirit  of  re- 
venge, the  rioters  had  destroyed  and  defaced  nearly  every- 
thing. His  desk  had  been  broken,  but  the  secret  drawer 
remained  undiscovered.  Having  obtained  his  private  papers, 
he  left  the  place,  and,  as  it  was  a  rented  house,  resolved  that 
he  would  not  reside  there  again. 

On  his  return  to  Merwyn's  home,  the  first  one  to  greet 
him  was  Strahan,  his  face  full  of  the  deepest  solicitude. 

"I  have  just  arrived,"  he  said.  "I  first  went  to  your 
house  and  was  overwhelmed  at  seeing  its  condition;  then 
I  drove  here  and   have  only  learned  enough  to  make  me 


504  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

anxious  indeed.  Oh,  my  accursed  wound  and  fever!  They 
kept  the  fact  of  the  riot  from  me  until  this  morning,  and 
then  I  learned  of  it  almost  by  accident,  and  came  instantly 
in  spite  of  them." 

11  Mr.  Strahan,  I  entreat  you  to  be  prudent.  I  am  over- 
whelmed with  trouble  and  fear  for  Merwyn,  and  I  and  mine 
must  cause  no  more  mischief.  Everything  is  being  done 
that  can  be,  and  all  must  be  patient  and  quiet  and  keep 
their  senses. ' ' 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right  now.  As  Merwyn's  friend,  this  is 
my  place.     .Remember  what  he  did  for  me." 

"Very  well.  If  you  are  equal  to  it  I  shall  be  glad  to 
have  you  take  charge  here.  As  soon  as  I  have  learned  of 
my  daughter's  and  Merwyn's  welfare  I  shall  engage  rooms 
at  the  nearest  hotel,  and,  if  the  city  remains  quiet,  telegraph 
for  my  wife;"  and  he  sent  Thomas  to  Dr.  Henderson  with 
a  request  to  see  him. 

"No  special  change,  and  there  cannot  be  very  soon," 
reported  the  physician. 

"But  my  daughter — she  must  not  be  allowed  to  go  be- 
yond her  strength." 

"1  will  look  after  her  as  carefully  as  after  my  other 
patient,"  was  the  reassuring  reply. 

"It's  a  strange  story,  Mr.  Strahan,"  resumed  Mr.  Vos- 
burgh,  when  they  were  alone.  "You  are  undoubtedly  sur- 
prised that  my  daughter  should  be  one  of  Merwyn's  watch- 
ers. He  saved  my  life  last  night,  and  my  daughter  and 
home  the  night  before.     They  are  virtually  engaged." 

"Oh,  that  I  had  been  here!"  groaned  Strahan. 

"Under  the  circumstances  it  was  well  that  you  were 
not.  It  would  probably  have  cost  you  your  life.  Only  the 
strongest  and  soundest  men  could  endure  the  strain.  Mer- 
wyn came  to  our  assistance  from  the  first;"  and  he  told 
the  young  officer  enough  of  what  had  occurred  to  make  it 
all  intelligible  to  him. 

Strahan  drew  a  long  breath,  then  said:  "He  has  won  her 
fairly.     I  had  suspected   his  regard  for  her;   but  I  would 


MOTHER    AXD    SOX  505 

rather  have  had   his  opportunity  and  his  wound  than  be 
a  major-general." 

"I  appreciate  the  honor  you  pay  my  daughter,  but  there 
are  some  matters  beyond  human  control,"  was  the  kind 
response. 

-"I  understand  all  that,"  said  the  young  man,  sadly; 
"but  I  can  still  be  her  loyal  friend,  and  that,  probably,  is 
all  that  I  ever  could  have  been." 

"I,  at  least,  can  assure  you  of  our  very  highest  esteem 
and  respect,  Mr.  Strahan;"  and  after  a  few  more  words  the 
gentlemen  parted. 

The  hours  dragged  on,  and  at  last  Dr.  Henderson  in- 
sisted that  Marian  should  go  down  to  lunch.  She  first  met 
Strahan  in  the  sitting-room,  and  sobbed  on  his  shoulder: 
"Oh,  Arthur!  I  fear  he  will  die,  and  if  he  does  I  shall 
wish  to  die,  too.  You  must  stand  by  us  both  like  a  loyal 
brother. ' ' 

"Marian,  I  will,"  he  faltered;  and  he  kept  his  word. 

He  made  her  take  food,'  and  at  last  inspired  her  with 
something  of  his  own  sanguine  spirit. 

"Oh,  what  a  comfort  it  is  to  have  you  here!"  she  said, 
as  she  was  returning  to  her  post.  "You  make  despair  im- 
possible. " 

Again  the  hours  dragged  slowly  on,  the  stillness  of  the 
house  broken  only  by  Merwyn's  delirious  words.  Then,  for 
a  time,  there  was  disquiet  in  bitter  truth. 

All  through  the  dreadful  night  just  described,  an  ocean 
steamer  had  been  plowing  its  way  toward  the  port  of  New 
York.  A  pilot  had  boarded  her  off  Sandy  Hook,  and  strange 
and  startling  had  been  his  tidings  to  the  homeward-bound 
Americans.  The  Battle  of  Gettysburg,  the  capture  of 
Yicksburg,  and,  above  all,  the  riots  had  been  the  burden 
of  his  narrations. 

Among  the  passengers  were  Mrs.  Merwyn  and  her 
daughters.  Dwelling  on  the  condition  of  her  son's  mind, 
as  revealed  by  his  letter,  she  had  concluded  that  she  must 
not  delay  her  departure  from  England  an  hour  longer  than 

Roe— VI— 22 


506  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

was  unavoidable.  "It  may  be,"  she  thought,  "that  only 
my  presence  can  restrain  him  in  his  madness;  for  worse 
than  madness  it  is  to  risk  all  his  future  prospects  in  the 
South  just  when  our  arms  are  crowned  with  victories  which 
will  soon  fulfil  our  hopes.  His  infatuation  with  that  horrid 
Miss  Vosburgh  is  the  secret  of  it  all." 

Therefore,  her  heart  overflowing  with  pride  and  anger, 
which  increased  with  every  day  of  the  voyage,  she  had 
taken  an  earlier  steamer,  and  was  determined  to  hold  her 
son  to  his  oath  if  he  had  a  spark  of  sanity  left. 

Having  become  almost  a  monomaniac  in  her  dream  of 
a  Southern  empire,  she  heard  in  scornful  incredulity  the 
rumor  of  defeat  and  disaster  brought  to  her  by  her  daugh- 
ters. All  the  pride  and  passion  of  her  strong  nature  was  in 
arms  against  the  bare  thought.  But  at  quarantine  papers 
were  received  on  board,  their  parallel  columns  lurid  with 
accounts  of  the  riot  and  aglow  with  details  of  Northern 
victories.  It  appeared  to  her  that  she  had  sailed  from  well- 
ordered  England,  with  its  congenial,  aristocratic  circles,  to 
a  world  of  chaos.  When  the  steamer  arrived  at  the  wharf, 
many  of  the  passengers  were  afraid  to  go  ashore,  but  she, 
quiet,  cold,  silent,  hiding  the  anger  that  raged  in  her  heart, 
did  not  hesitate  a  moment.  She  came  of  a  race  that  knew 
not  what  fear  meant.  At  the  earliest  possible  moment  she 
and  her  daughters  entered  a  carriage  and  were  driven  up- 
town. The  young  girls  stared  in  wonder  at  the  troops  and 
other  evidences  of  a  vast  disturbance,  and  when  they  saw 
Madison  Square  filled  with  cavalry  horses  they  exclaimed 
aloud,  "Oh,  mamma,  see!" 

"Yes,"  said  their  mother,  sternly,  "and  mark  it  well. 
Even  these  Northern  people  will  no  longer  submit  to  the 
Lincoln  tyranny.  He  may  win  a  few  brief  triumphs,  but 
the  day  is  near  when  our  own  princely  leaders  will  dictate 
law  and  order  everywhere.  The  hour  has  already  passed 
when  he  will  have  the  South  only  to  fight;"  and  in  her 
prejudice  and  ignorance  she  believed  her  words  to  be  abso- 
lutely infallible. 


MOTHER    AND   SON  507 

Strahan  met  them  as  they  entered,  and  received  but  a 
cold  greeting  from  the  lady. 

"Where  is  Willard?"  she  asked,  hastily. 

"Mrs.  Merwyn,   you  must  prepare  yourself  for  a  great 

shook.     Your  son—" 

Her  mind  was  prepared  for  but  one  great  disaster,  and, 
her  self-control  at  last  giving  way,  she  almost  shrieked, 
"What'  has  he  taken  arms  against  the  South  ?" 

"Mrs.  Merwyn,"  replied  Strahan,  "is  that  the  worst  that 

could  happen?" 

A  sudden  and  terrible  dread  smote  the  proud  woman, 
and  she  sank  into  a  chair,  while  young  Bstelle  Merwyn 
rushed  upon  Strahan,  and,  seizing  his  hand,  faltered  in  a 
whisper,  "ls-is-"   but  she  could  proceed  no  further. 

"No-  but  he  soon  will  be  unless  reason  and  affection 
control  your  actions  and  words.  Your  family  physician H 
here,  Mrs.  Merwyn,  and  I  trust  you  will  be  guided  by  his 

counsel." 

"Send  him  to  me,"  gasped  the  mother. 

Dr.  Henderson  soon  came  and  explained  in  part  what 

had  occurred.  .  , 

"Oh,  those  Vosburghs!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Merwyn    with 
a  gesture  of   unspeakable   revolt  at  the  state  of  affairs 
"Well,"  she  added,  with  a  stern  face,  "it  is  my  place  and 
not  a  stranger's  to  be  at  my  son's  side." 

"Pardon  me,  madam;  you  cannot  go  to  your  son  at  all 
in  vour  present  mood.  In  an  emergency  like  this  a  physi- 
cian  is  autocrat,  and  your  son's  life  hangs  by  a  hair. 

"Who  has  a  better  right-who  can  do  more  for  a  child 

tha»£hTshould  be  true,  but-"  and  he  hesitated  in  em- 
barrassment,  for  a  moment,  then  concluded,  firmly:  Your 
son  is  not  expecting  you,  and  agitation  now  might  be  fatal 
to  him.      There   are    other   reasons   which   you   will   soon 

Und' There' is  one  thing  I  already  understand-a  nameless 
stranger  is  with  him,  and  I  am  kept  away." 


506  Ay    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

"Miss    T    sburgh    ifl    not    a    oamelefli    -:r:,L_rer."    said 
Strahan;  "and  she  to  your  s 

I  shall   go  mad!"  the  lady  groaned,   a 

:ough  her  heart. 

..  Henderson,  kindly,  yet 

firmly,  t4tak  ounsel  of  an  old  friend.     Detracted  as 

you  naturally  are  with  all   ::.ese  and  terrible 

events,  you  must  recognize  .1  are  in  no 

the  care  of  your  son  now.     He 
would  not  know  you,  I  >ur  voice  might  agitate 

...    .  :    -,  ..'• .     I  ■'.      -    "  :    .         "•'        "     v  ■.   :.'.:...  :.   .:  I  '.1'".'  :■  r.  .  ■ 
that  :o  him  now,  and  I  shall  not  ai> 

for  t:  ou  do.'' 

•  Man:::  nd  do  as  Dr. 

Hen  on  are  calm 

you  b  that  he   is   i.     It  anything  should  happen 

you  would  : 

mothers  bitte:  ffling  into  a  deadlier 

fear,  but  she  are 

your  decrees  I  ;lu..  to  to  :..y  room  i»nd  wail  till  I  am  sum- 
moned;"  and  she  rose  and  left  the  apartment,  followe 

I  her 
Led. 

,d   gone,    and    then    she 
wiih   an  oile, 

•I  l    this    Lb   me  little  girl  whom 

.  and  te 

Hei  large,  lustrous  eyes 
-  -       -  - 

do  you  ry  ill?" 

••  Ves.'r  he  -   hoj  e  I  maj 

mitted  :  his       kchera     He  took  care  of 

[most  morl  I  would 

"But  irt      Your  arm  is  in  a  sli 

My  wound  is  healing,  and  I  could  our  brother's 

;..   li:   v.:' 


MOTHER    AND    SON  509 

"You  shall  remain,"  said  the  girl,  emphatically.  "I 
have  some  of  mamma's  spirit,  if  not  all  her  prejudices. 
Is  this  Miss  Vosburgh  such  a  fright?" 

"I  regard  her  as  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful  girl 
I  ever  saw." 

"Oh,  you  do?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  shall  go  and  talk  reason  to  mamma,  for  sister 
Berta  yields  to  everything  without  a  word.  You  must  stay, 
and  I  shall  do  my  share  of  watching  as  soon  as  the  doctor 
permits." 

Mrs.  Merwyn  thought  she  would  remain  in  her  room  as 
she  had  said,  but  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  in  her  soul 
were  breaking  up.  She  found  that  the  mother  in  her  heart 
was  stronger  than  the  partisan.     She  must  see  her  son. 

At  last  she  sent  Thomas  for  Dr.  Henderson  again,  and 
obtained  permission  to  look  upon  her  child.  Bitter  as  the 
physician  knew  the  experience  would  be,  it  might  be  salu- 
tary. With  noiseless  tread  she  crossed  the  threshold,  and 
saw  Marian's  pure,  pale  profile;  she  drew  a  few  steps 
nearer;  the  young  girl  turned  and  bowed  gravely,  then 
resumed  her  watch. 

For  the  moment  Merwyn  was  silent,  then  in  a  voice  all 
too  distinct  he  said:  "Cruel,  unnatural  mother,  to  rob  me 
of  my  manhood,  to  chain  me  like  one  of  her  slrves.  Jeff 
Davis  and  empire  are  more  to  her  than  husband  or  son." 

The  conscience-stricken  woman  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  glided  away.  As  by  a  lightning- flash  the 
reason  why  she  had  forfeited  her  place  by  the  couch  of  her 
son  was  revealed. 


510  AN   ORIGINAL   BELLE 


CHAPTER  LIII 

41  MISSY      S'WANEE" 

THERE  is  no  need  of  dwelling  long  on  subsequent 
events.  Our  story  has  already  indicated  many  of 
them.  Mrs.  Merwyn's  bitter  lesson  was  emphasized 
through  many  weary  days.  She  hovered  about  her  son  like 
a  remorseful  spirit,  but  dared  not  speak  to  him.  She  had 
learned  too  well  why  her  voice  might  cause  fatal  agitation. 
For  a  time  she  tried  to  ignore  Marian,  but  the  girl's  gentle 
dignity  and  profound  sorrow,  her  untiring  faithfulness,  con- 
quered pride  at  last,  and  the  mother,  with  trembling  lips, 
asked  forgiveness  and  besought  affection. 

Blauvelt  arrived  in  town  on  the  evening  of  the  day  just 
described,  proposing  to  offer  his  services  to  the  city  authori- 
ties, meanwhile  cherishing  the  secret  hope  that  he  might 
serve  Marian.  He  at  last  found  Strahan  at  Merwyn's  home. 
The  brother  officers  talked  long  and  earnestly,  but,  while 
both  were  reticent  concerning  their  deeper  thoughts,  they 
both  knew  that  a  secret  dream  was  over  forever. 

Marian  came  down  and  gave  her  hand  to  the  artist  sol- 
dier in  warm  pressure  as  she  said,  "My  friends  are  loyal 
in  my  time  of  need." 

He  lingered  a  day  or  two  in  the  city,  satisfied  himself 
that  the  insurrection  was  over,  then  went  home,  bade  his 
old  mother  good- by,  and  joined  his  regiment.  He  was  soon 
transferred  to  the  staff  of  a  general  officer,  and  served  with 
honor  and  distinction  to  the  end  of  the  war. 

Mrs.  Vosburgh  joined  her  husband;  and  the  awful  peril 


"MISSY   S'WANEE"  5H 

through  which  he  aud  her  daughter  had  passed  awakened 
in  her  a  deeper  sense  of  real  life.  In  contemplation  of  the 
immeasurable  loss  which  she  might  have  sustained  she 
learned  to  value  better  what  she  possessed.  By  Estelle's 
tact  it  was  arranged  that  she  could  often  see  Marian  with- 
out embarrassment.  So  far  as  her  nature  permitted  she 
shared  in  her  husband's  boundless  solicitude  for  Merwyn. 
Warm-hearted  Estelle  was  soon  conscious  of  a  sister's 
affection  for  the  girl  of  her  brother's  choice,  and  shared 
her  vigils.  She  became  also  a  very  good  friend  to  Strahan, 
and  entertained  a  secret  admiration  for  him,  well  hidden, 
however,  by  a  brusque  yet  delicate  raillery. 

But  Strahan  believed  that  the  romance  of  his  life  was 
over,  and  he  eventually  joined  his  regiment  with  some  reck- 
less hopes  of  "stopping  a  bullet,"  as  he  phrased  it.  Gloomy 
cynicism,  however,  was  not  his  forte;  and  when,  before  the 
year  was  out,  he  was  again  promoted,  he  found  that  life  was 
anything  but  a  burden,  although  he  was  so  ready  to  risk  it 
At  last  the  light  of  reason  dawned  in  Merwyn' s  eyes. 
He  recognized  Marian,  smiled,  and  fell  into  a  quiet  sleep. 
On  awakening,  he  said  to  her:  "You  kept  your  word,  my 
darling.  You  did  not  leave  me.  I  should  have  died  if  you 
had.  I  think  I  never  wholly  lost  the  consciousness  that 
you  were  near  me." 

The  young  girl  soon  brought  about  a  complete  reconcil- 
iation between  mother  and  son,  and  Merwyn  was  absolved 
from  his  oath.  Even  as  a  devoted  husband,  which  he  be- 
came at  Christmas-tide,  she  found  him  too  ready  to  go  to 
the  front.  He  appeared,  however,  to  have  little  ambition 
for  distinction,  and  was  satisfied  to  enter  upon  duty  in  a 
very  subordinate  position:  but  he  did  it  so  well  and  bravely 
that  his  fine  abilities  were  recognized,  and  he  was  advanced. 
At  last,  to  his  mother's  horror,  he  received  a  colonel's  com- 
mission to  a  colored  regiment. 

Many  of  Mrs.  Merwyn's  lifelong  prejudices  were  never 
overcome,  and  she  remained  loyal  to  the  South;  but  she 
was   taught  that   mother-love   is   the  mightiest  of   human 


512  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

forces,  and  at  last  admitted  that  her  son,  as  a  man,  had 
a  right  to  choose  and  act  for  himself. 

Mr.  Vosburgh  remained  in  the  city  as  the  trusted  agent 
of  the  government  until  the  close  of  the  war,  and  was  then 
transferred  to  Washington.  Every  year  cemented  his  friend- 
ship with  Merwyn,  and  the  two  men  corresponded  so  faith- 
fully that  Marian  declared  she  was  jealous.  Each  knew, 
however,  that  their  mutual  regard  and  good-comradeship 
were  among  her  deepest  sources  of  happiness.  While  her 
husband  was  absent  Marian  made  the  country  house  on  the 
Hudson  her  residence,  but  in  many  ways  she  sought  oppor- 
tunity to  reduce  the  awful  sum  of  anguish  entailed  by  the 
war.  She  often  lured  Estelle  from  the  city  as  her  compan- 
ion, even  in  bleak  wintry  weather.  Here  Strahan  found  her 
when  on  a  leave  of  absence  in  the  last  year  of  the  war,  and 
he  soon  learned  that  he  had  another  heart  to  lose.  Marian 
was  discreetly  blind  to  his  direct  and  soldier-like  siege. 
Indeed,  she  proved  the  best  of  allies,  aware  that  the  young 
officer's  time  was  limited. 

Estelle  was  elusive  as  a  mocking  spirit  of  the  air,  until 
the  last  day  of  his  leave  was  expiring,  and  then  laughingly 
admitted  that  she  had  surrendered  almost  two  years  before. 

Of  the  humble  characters  in  my  story  it  is  sufficient  to 
say  that  Zeb  barely  survived,  and  was  helpless  for  life. 
Pensions  from  Merwyn  and  Lane  secured  for  him  and  his 
mother  every  comfort.  Barney  Ghegan  eventually  recov- 
ered, and  resumed  his  duties  on  the  police  force. 

He  often  said,  t;Oi'm  proud  to  wear  the  uniform  that 
Misther  Merwyn  honored." 

I  have  now  only  to  outline  the  fortunes  of  Captain  Lane 
and  "Missy  S'wanee, "  and  then  to  take  leave  of  my  reader, 
supposing  that  he  has  had  the  patience  to  accompany  me 
thus  far. 

Lane's  wound,  reopened  by  his  exertions  in  escaping  to 
Washington,  kept  him  helpless  on  a  bed  of  suffering  during 
the  riots  and  for  weeks  thereafter.  Then  he  was  granted  a 
long  furlougn,  which  he  spent  chiefly  with  his  family  at  the 


"MISSY    S'tVAXEE"  513 

North.    Like  Strahan,  lie  felt  that  Merwyo  had  won  Marian 
fairly.     So  far  was  he  from  cherishing  any  bitterness,  that 
he  received  the  successful  rival  within  the  circle  of  his  near- 
est  friends.     By  being  sincere,  true  to  nature  and  conscience, 
Marian  retained,  not  only  the  friendship  and  respect  of  her 
lovers,  but  also  her  ennobling  influence  over  them.     While 
they  saw  that  Merwyn  was  supreme,  they  also  learned  that 
they  would  never  be  dismissed  with  indifference  from  her 
thoughts— that  she  would  follow  them  through  life  with  an 
affectionate  interest  and   good-will  scarcely   less  than  she 
would  bestow  on  brothers  cradled  in  the  same  home  with 
herself.     Lane,   with   his  steadfast  nature,  would  maintain 
this  relation  more  closely   than  the  others,  but  the  reader 
has  already  guessed  that  he  would  seek  to  give  and  to  find 
consolation   elsewhere.     Suwanee   Barkdale   had  awakened 
his    strongest    sympathy    and    respect,    and    the    haunting 
thought  that  she,  like  himself,  had  given  her  love  appar- 
ently0 where  it  could  not  be  returned,  made  her  seem  akin 
to  himself  in  the   deepest  and  saddest  experience.     Grad- 
ually  and  almost  unconsciously   he  gave   his  thoughts  to 
her,  and  began  to  wonder  when  and  how  they  should  meet 
aoain,  if  ever.     He  wrote  to  her  several  times,  but  obtained 
no   answer,    no    assurance   that   his    letters   were   received. 
When  he  was  fit  for  duty  again   his   regiment  was  in  the 
West,   and  it  remained   there  until   the  close  of   the  war, 
he  having  eventually  attained   to  its  command. 

As  soon  as  he  could  control  his  own  movements  he  re- 
solved to  settle  one  question  before  he  resumed  the  quiet 
pursuit  of  his  profession— he  would  learn  the  fate  of  "Missy 
S'wanee."  Securing  a  strong,  fleet  horse,  he  left  Washing- 
ton, and  rode  rapidly  through  a  region  that  had  been  tram- 
pled almost  into  a  desert  by  the  iron  heel  of  war.  The  May 
sun  was  low  in  the  west  when  he  turned  from  the  road  into 
the  extended  lawn  which  led  up  to  the  Barkdale  mansion. 
Little  beyond  unsightly  stumps  was  left  of  the  beautiful 
groves  by  which  it  had  been  bordered. 

Vividly   his  memory   reproduced  the    same    hour,    now 


514  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

years  since,  when  he  had  ridden  up  that  lawn  at  the  head 
of  his  troopers,  his  sabre  flashing  in  the  last  rays  of  the 
sun.  It  seemed  ages  ago,  so  much  had  happened;  but 
through  all  the  changes  and  perils  the  low  sob  of  the 
Southern  girl  when  she  opened  the  way  for  his  escape 
had  been  vibrating  in  stronger  and  tenderer  chords  in  the 
depths  of  his  soul.  It  had  awakened  dreams  and  imaginings 
which,  if  dissipated,  would  leave  but  a  busy,  practical  life 
as  devoid  of  romance  as  the  law  tomes  to  which  he  would 
give  his  thoughts.  It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  his  heart 
should  beat  fast  as  he  approached  the  solution  of  a  question 
bearing  so  vitally  on  all  his  future. 

He  concealed  himself  and  his  horse  behind  some  low, 
shrubby  trees  that  had  been  too  insignificant  for  the  camp- 
fires,  long  since  burned  out,  and  scanned  the  battered  dwell- 
ing. No  sign  of  life  was  visible.  He  was  about  to  proceed 
and  end  his  suspense  at  once,  when  a  lady,  clad  in  mourn- 
ing, came  out  and  sat  down  on  the  veranda.  He  instantly 
recognized  Suwanee. 

For  a  few  moments  Lane  could  scarcely  summon  courage 
to  approach.  The  surrounding  desolation,  her  badges  of 
bereavement  and  sorrow,  gave  the  young  girl  the  dignity 
and  sacredness  of  immeasurable  misfortune.  She  who  had 
once  so  abounded  in  joyous,  spirited  life  now  seemed  em- 
blematical of  her  own  war-wasted  and  unhappy  land — one 
to  whom  the  past  and  the  dead  were  more  than  the  future 
and  the  living. 

Would  she  receive  him?  Would  she  forgive  him,  one 
of  the  authors  of  her  people's  bleeding  wounds  ?  He  deter- 
mined to  end  his  suspense,  and  rode  slowly  toward  her,  that 
she  might  not  be  startled. 

At  first  she  did  not  recognize  the  stranger  in  civilian 
dress,  who  was  still  more  disguised  by  a  heavy  beard;  but 
she  rose  and  approached  the  veranda  steps  to  meet  him. 
He  was  about  to  speak,  when  she  gave  a  great  start,  and 
a  quick  flush  passed  over  her  face. 

Then,  as  if  by  the  sternest  effort,  she  resumed  her  quiet, 


"MISSY   S'WANEE"  515 

dignified  bearing,  as  she  said,  coldly,  "You  will  scarcely 
wonder,  Captain  Lane,  that  I  did  not  recognize  you  be- 
fore. "  He  had  dismounted  and  stood  uncovered  before 
her,  and  she  added,  "I  regret  that  I  have  no  one  to  take 
your  horse,  and  no  place  to  stable  him,  but  for  yourself 
X  can  still  offer  such  hospitality  as  my  home  affords. " 

Lane  was  chilled  and  embarrassed.  He  could  not  speak 
to  her  in  like  distant  and  formal  manner,  and  he  resolved 
that  he  would  not.  However  it  might  end,  he  would  be 
true  to  his  own  heart  and  impulses. 

He  threw  the  reins  on  the  horse's  neck,  caring  not  what 
became  of  him,  and  stepping  to  her  side,  he  said,  impetu- 
ously, "I  never  doubted  that  I  should  receive  hospitality 
at  your  home — that  is  refused  to  no  one — but  I  did  hope 
for  a  different  greeting." 

Again  there  was  a  quick,  auroral  flush,  and  then,  with 
increased  pallor  and  coldness,  she  asked,  "Have  I  failed  in 
courtesy  ?" 

"No." 

"What  reason  had  you  to  expect  more?" 

"Because,  almost  from  the  first  hour  we  met,  I  had 
given  you  esteem  and  reverence  as  a  noble  woman — be- 
cause I  promised  you  honest  friendship  and  have  kept  my 
word." 

Still  more  coldly  she  replied:  "I  fear  there  can  be  no 
friendship  between  us.  My  father  and  brothers  lie  in 
nameless  graves  in  your  proud  and  triumphant  North, 
and  my  heart  and  hope  are  buried  with  them.  My 
mother  has  since  died,  broken-hearted;  Roberta's  hus- 
band, the  colonel  you  sent  to  prison,  is  a  crippled  sol- 
dier, and  both  are  so  impoverished  that  they  know  not 
how  to  live.  And  you — you  have  been  so  busy  in  help- 
ing those  who  caused  these  woes  chat  you  evidently  forgot 
the  once  light-hearted  girl  whom  you  first  saw  on  this 
veranda.  Why  speak  of  friendship,  Captain  Lane,  when 
rivers  of  blood  flow  between  us — rivers  fed  from  the  veins 
of  my  kindred  ? 


516  AN    ORIGINAL    BELLE 

Her  words  were  so  stern  and  sad  that  Lane  sat  down  on 
the  steps  at  her  feet  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  His 
hope  was  withering  and  his  tongue  paralyzed  in  the  pres- 
ence of  such  grief  as  hers. 

She  softened  a  little  as  she  looked  down  upon  him,  and 
after  a  moment  or  two  resumed:  "I  do  not  blame  you  per- 
sonally. I  must  try  to  be  just  in  my  bitter  sorrow  and  de- 
spair. You  proved  long  ago  that  you  were  obeying  your 
conscience;  but  you  who  conquer  cannot  know  the  hearts 
of  the  conquered.  Your  home  does  not  look  like  mine; 
your  kindred  are  waiting  to  welcome  you  with  plaudits. 
You  have  everything  to  live  for — honor,  prosperity,  and 
love;  for  doubtless,  long  before  this,  the  cold-hearted 
Northern  girl  has  been  won  by  the  fame  of  your  achieve- 
ments. Think  of  me  as  a  ghost,  doomed  to  haunt  these 
desolate  scenes  where  once  I  was  happy." 

uNo,"  he  replied,  springing  to  his  feet,  "I  shall  think 
of  you  as  the  woman  1  love.  Life  shall  not  end  so  unhap- 
pily for  us  both;  for  if  you  persist  in  your  morbid  enmity, 
my  future  will  be  as  wretched  as  yours.  You  judge  me  un- 
heard, and  you  wrong  me  cruelly.  I  have  never  forgotten 
you  for  an  hour.  I  wrote  to  you  again  and  again,  and  re- 
ceived no  answer.  The  moment  I  was  released  from  the 
iron  rule  of  military  duty  in  the  West  I  sought  you  before 
returning  to  the  mother  who  bore  me.  No  river  of  blood 
flows  between  us  that  my  love  could  not  bridge.  I  admit 
that  I  was  speechless  at  first  before  the  magnitude  of  your 
sorrows;  but  must  this  accursed  war  go  on  forever,  blight- 
ing life  and  hope  ?  What  was  the  wound  you  did  so  much 
toward  healing  compared  to  the  one  you  are  giving  me  now? 
Many  a  blow  has  been  aimed  at  me,  but  not  one  has  pierced 
my  heart  before." 

She  tried  to  listen  rigidly  and  coldly  to  his  impassioned 
utterance,  but  could  not,  and,  as  he  ceased,  she  was  sobbing 
in  her  chair.  He  sought  with  gentle  words  to  soothe  her, 
but  by  a  gesture  she  silenced  him. 

At  last  she  said,  brokenly:   "For  months  I  have  not 


"MISSY    S'WANEE"  517 

shed  a  tear.     My  heart  and  brain  seemed   bursting,  yet  I 
could  get  no  relief.     Were  it  not  for  some  faith  and  hope 
in  God,  I  should  have  followed  my  kindred.     You  cannot' 
know,  you  never  can  know." 

"I  know  one  thing,  Suwanee.  You  were  once  a  brave, 
unselfish  woman.  I  will  not,  I  cannot  believe  that  you 
have  parted  with  your  noble,  generous  impulses.  You 
may  remain  cold  to  me  if  I  merely  plead  my  cause  for 
your  sake,  that  I  may  bring  consolation  and  healing  into 
your  life;  but  I  still  have  too  much  faith  in  your  large, 
warm,  Southern  heart  to  believe  that  you  will  blight  my 
life  also.  If  you  can  never  love  me,  give  me  the  right  to 
be  your  loyal  and  helpful  friend.  Giving  you  all  that  is 
best  and  most  sacred  in  my  nature  how  can  you  send  me 
away  as  if  I  had  no  part  or  lot  in  your  life  ?  It  is  not, 
cannot  be  true.  When  I  honor  you  and  would  give  my 
life  for  you,  and  shall  love  you  all  my  days,  it  is  absurd  to 
say  that  I  am  nothing  to  you.  Only  embodied  selfishness 
and  callousness  could  say  that.  You  may  not  be  able  to 
give  what  I  do,  but  you  should  give  all  you  can.  'Rivers 
of  blood  flowing  between  us'  is  morbid  nonsense.  Forgive 
me  that  I  speak  strongly— I  feel  strongly.  My  soul  is  in 
my  words.  I  felt  toward  my  cause  as  you  toward  yours, 
and  had  I  not  acted  as  I  have,  you  would  be  the  first  to 
think  me  a  craven.  But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the 
sacred  instinct,  the  pure,  unbounded  love  which  compels 
me  to  seek  you  as  my  wife?" 

"You  have  spoken  such  words  to  another,"  she  said,  in 
a,  low  tone. 

"No,  never  such  words  as  I  speak  to  you.  I  could  not 
have  spoken  them,  for  then  I  was  too  young  and  immature 
to  feel  them.  I  did  love  Miss  Vosburgh  as  sincerely  as  I 
now  respect  and  esteem  her.  She  is  the  happy  wife  of 
another  man.  I  speak  to  you  from  the  depths  of  my  ma- 
tured manhood.  What  is  more,  I  speak  with  the  solem- 
nity and  truth  which  your  sorrows  should  inspire.  Should 
you   refuse  my  hand  it  will  never  be  offered  to  another, 


518  AN   ORIGINAL    BELLE 

and  you  know  me  well  enough  to  be  sure  I  will  keep  my 
word. " 

"Oh,  can  it  be  right  ?"  cried  the  girl,  wringing  her  hands. 

"One  question  will  settle  all:  Can  jou  return  my  love  ?" 

With  that  query  light  came  into  her  mind  as  if  from 
heaven.  She  saw  that  such  love  as  theirs  was  the  su- 
preme motive,  the  supreme  obligation. 

She  rose  and  fixed  her  lovely,  tear-gemmed  eyes  upon 
him  searchingly  as  she  asked,  "Would  you  wed  me,  a  beg- 
gar, dowered  only  with  sorrow  and  bitter  memories?" 

"I  will  wed  you,  Suwanee  Barkdale,  or  no  one." 

"There,"  she  said,  with  a  wan  smile,  holding  out  her 
hand;    "the  North   has  conquered  again." 

"Suwanee,"  he  said,  gravely  and  gently,  as  he  caressed 
the  head  bowed  upon  his  breast,  "let  us  begin  right.  For 
us  two  there  is  no  North  or  South.  We  are  one  for  time, 
and  I  trust  for  eternity.  But  do  not  think  me  so  narrow 
and  unreasonable  as  to  expect  that  you  should  think  as  I 
do  on  many  questions.  Still  more,  never  imagine  that 
I  shall  chide  you,  even  in  my  thoughts,  for  love  of  your 
kindred  and  people,  or  the  belief  that  they  honestly  and 
heroically  did  what  seemed,  to  them  their  duty.  When 
you  thought  yourself  such  a  hopeless  little  sinner,  and  I 
discovered  you  to  be  a  saint,  did  I  not  admit  that  your 
patriotic  impulses  were  as  sincere  as  my  own?  As  it  has 
often  been  in  tne  past,  time  will  settle  ail  questions  be- 
tween your  people  and  ours,  and  time  and  a  better  knowl- 
edge of  each  other  will  heal  our  mutual  wounds.  I  wish 
to  remove  fear  and  distrust  of  the  immediate  future  from 
your  mind,  however.  I  must  take  you  to  a  Northern 
home,  where  I  can  work  for  you  in  my  profession,  but 
you  can  be  your  own  true  self  there — just  what  you  were 
when  you  first  won  my  honor  and  esteem.  The  memory  of 
your  brave  father  and  brothers  shall  be  sacred  to  me  as  well 
as  to  you.  I  shall  expect  you  to  change  your  feelings  and 
opinions  under  no  other  compulsion  than  that  of  your  own 
reason  and  conscience.     Shall  you  fear  to  go  with  me  now  ? 


"MISSY   S'WANEE*  519 

I  will  do  everything  that  you  can  ask  if  you  will  only  bless 
me  with  your  love." 

"I  never  dreamed  before  that  it  could  be  so  sweet  to 
bless  an  enemy,"  she  said,  with  a  gleam  of  her  old  mirth- 
fulness,  "and  I  have  dreamed  about  it.  Oh,  Fenton,  I 
loved  you  unsought,  and  the  truth  nearly  killed  me  at 
first,  but  I  came  at  last  to  be  a  little  proud  of  it.  You 
were  so  brave,  yet  considerate,  so  fair  and  generous  toward 
us,  that  you  banished  my  prejudices,  and  you  won  my  heart 
by  believing  there  was  some  good  in  it  after  all." 

A  white  shock  of  wool  surmounting  a  wrinkled,  ebon 
visage  appeared  at  the  door,  and  the  old  cook  said,  "Missy 
S'wanee,  dere's  nuffin'  in  de  house  for  supper  but  a  little 
cawn-meal.     Oh,  bress  de  Lawd!  if  dere  ain't  Cap'n  Lane!" 

"Give  us  a  hoe-cake,  then,"  cried  Lane,  shaking  the  old 
woman's  hand.  "I'd  rather  sup  with  your  mistress  to-night 
on  corn-meal  than  sit  down  to  the  grandest  banquet  you 
have  ever  prepared  in  the  past.  In  the  morning  I'll  forage 
for  breakfast." 

"Bress  de  Lawd!"  said  the  old  woman,  as  she  hobbled 
away.  "Good  times  comm'  now.  If  I  could  jes'  hear 
Missy  S'wanee  larf  once  mo';"  and  then  she  passed  be- 
yond hearing. 

"Yes,  Suwanee,  if  I  could  only  hear  your  old  sweet 
laugh  once  more!"   Lane  pleaded. 

"Not  yet,  Fenton;  not  yet — some  day." 


THE    END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


3QApr'60BT 


1N  STACKS 


APR  \  6  1960 


l?ECTD  [  n 


UiM  3i  mo 


I 


LD  21A-50m-4,'60 
(A9562sl0)476B 


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